' '  HH^H 


v 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'  At  length  the  water  reached  the  hatchway." 


FREAKS  ON  THE  FELLS ; 


THREE  MONTHS'  RUSTICATION. 


AND 


WHY  I  DID  NOT  BECOME  A  SAILOR. 

BY 

R.  M.  BALLANTYNE, 

AUTHOR   OF    "WILD    MAN   OP   THE    WEST,"    "  GASCOYNE,   TH« 

SAXDAL  WOOD  TRADER,"    "DOG  CRUSOE,'1    "RED 

ERIC,"   "GORILLA  HUNTERS,"  "LIFE 

BOAT,''    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
POETEE    &    COATES. 


FREAKS  ON  THE  FELLS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

MR.   SUDBERRY  IN  HIS   COUNTING-HOUSE. 

MR.  JOHN  SUDBERRY  was  a  successful  London 
merchant.  He  was  also  a  fat  little  man.  More- 
over, ne  was  a  sturdy  little  man,  wore  spectacles, 
and  had  a  smooth  bald  head,  over  which,  at  the 
time  we  introduce  him  to  the  reader,  fifty  summers 
had  passed,  with  their  corresponding  autumns, 
winters,  and  springs.  The  passage  of  so  many 
seasons  over  him  appeared  to  have  exercised  a 
polishing  influence  on  the  merchant,  for  Mr.  Sud- 
berry's  cranium  shone  like  a  billiard-ball.  In  tem- 
perament Mr.  Sudberry  was  sanguine,  and  full  of 
energy.  He  could  scarcely  have  been  a  successful 
merchant  without  these  qualities.  He  was  also 
extremely  violent. 

Now,  it  is  necessary  here  to  guard  the  reader 
from  falling  into  a  mistake  in  reference  to  Mr. 
Sudberry's  character.  We  have  said  that  he  was 

8 


- 


4  Freaks  on  the  Feds;   or, 

violent,  but  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  he  waa 
passionate.  By  no  means.  He  was  the  most  amia- 
ble and  sweet-tempered  of  men.  His  violence  was 
owing  to  physical  rather  than  mental  causes.  He 
was  hasty  in  his  volitions,  impulsive  in  his  actions, 
madly  reckless  in  his  personal  movements.  His 
moral  and  physical  being  was  capable  of  only  two 
conditions  —  deep  repose  or  wild  activity. 

At  his  desk  Mr.  Sudberry  was  wont  to  sit  mo- 
tionless like  a  statue,  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands  and  his  thoughts  busy.  When  these  thoughts 
culminated,  he  would  start  as  if  he  had  received  an 
electric  shock,  seize  a  pen,  and,  with  pursed  lips 
and  frowning  brows,  send  it  careering  over  the 
paper  with  harrowing  rapidity,  squeaking  and 
chirping  (the  pen,  not  the  man)  like  a  small  bird 
with  a  bad  cold.  Mr.  Sudberry  used  quills.  He 
was  a  tremendous  writer.  He  could  have  reported 
the  debates  of  the  "  House  "  in  long-hand. 

The  merchant's  portrait  is  not  yet  finished.  He 
was  a  peculiar  man,  and  men  of  this  sort  cannot  be 
sketched  off  in  a  few  lines.  Indeed,  had  he  not 
been  a  peculiar  man,  it  would  not  have  been  worth 
while  to  drag  him  thus  prominently  into  notice. 

Anvong    other  peculiarities    in  Mr.  Sudberry '3 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  5 

character,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  chronic  tendency 
to  dab  his  pen  into  the  ink-bottle  and  split  it  to  the 
feather,  or  double  up  its  point  so  as  to  render  it 
unserviceable.  This  infirmity,  coupled  with  an  un- 
common capacity  for  upsetting  ink-bottles,  had  in- 
duced him  to  hire  a  small  clerk,  whose  principal 
duties  were  to  mend  pens,  wipe  up  ink,  and,  gen- 
erally, to  attend  to  the  removal  of  debris. 

When  Mr.  Sudberry  slept  he  did  it  profoundly. 
When  he  awoke  he  did  it  with  a  start  and  a  stare, 
as  if  amazed  at  having  caught  himself  in  the  very 
act  of  indulging  in  such  weakness.  Whon  he 
washed  he  puffed,  and  gasped,  and  rubbed,  and 
made  such  a  noise,  that  one  might  have  supposed 
a  walrus  was  engaged  in  its  ablutions.  How  the 
skin  of  his  head,  face,  and  neck  stood  the  towelling 
it  received  is  incomprehensible  !  When  he  walked 
he  went  like  an  express  train ;  when  he  sauntered 
he  relapsed  into  the  slowest  possible  snail's-pace, 
but  he  did  not  graduate  the  changes  from  one  to 
the  other.  When  he  sat  down  he  did  so  with  a 
crash.  The  number  of  chairs  which  Mr.  Sudberry 
broke  in  the  course  of  his  life  would  have  filled  a 
goodly-sized  concert-room ;  and  the  number  of  tea- 
cups wlr.ch  he  had  swept  off  tables  with  the  tails 


6  Freaks  on  the  Fells;   or, 

of  his  coat  might,  we  believe,  have  set  up  a  me  der- 
ately  ambitious  man  in  the  china  trade. 

There  was  always  a  beaming  smile  on  the  mer- 
chant's countenance,  except  when  he  was  engaged 
in  deep  thought ;  then  his  mouth  was  pursed  and 
his  brows  knitted. 

The  small  clerk  was  a  thin-bodied,  weak-minded, 
timid  boy,  of  about  twelve  years  of  age  and  of  hum- 
ble origin.  He  sat  at  Mr.  Sudberry's  double  desk 
in  the  office,  opposite  and  in  dangerous  proximity 
to  his  master,  whom  he  regarded  with  great  admi- 
ration, alarm,  and  awe. 

On  a  lovely  afternoon  towards  the  middle  of 
May,  when  city  men  begin  to  thirst  for  a  draught 
of  fresh  air,  and  to  long  for  an  undignified  roll  on 
the  green  fields  among  primroses,  butter-cups,  and 
daisies,  Mr.  Sudberry  sat  at  his  desk  reading  the 
advertisements  in  the  Times. 

Suddenly  he  flung  the  paper  away,  hit  the  desk 
a  sounding  blow  with  his  clinched  fist,  and  ex- 
claimed firmly,  —  "  I'll  do  it ! " 

Accustomed  though  he  was  to  nervous  shocks, 
the  small  clerk  leaped  with  more  than  ordinary 
tremor  off  his  stool  on  this  occasion,  picked  up  the 
paper,  laid  it  at  his  master's  elbow,  and  sat  do  mi 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  7 

again,  prepared  to  look  out  —  nautically  speak- 
ing—  for  more  squalls. 

Mr.  Sudberry  seized  a  quill,  dabbed  it  into  the 
ink-bottle,  and  split  it.  Seizing  another  he  dabbed 
again;  the  quill  stood  the  shock;  the  small  clerk 
ventured  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  laid  aside  the  inky 
napkin  —  which  he  had  pulled  out  of  his  desk  ex- 
pecting an  upset,  and  prepared  for  the  worst. 
A  note  was  dashed  off  in  two  minutes,  —  signed, 
sealed,  addressed,  in  half  a  minute,  and  Mr.  Sud- 
berry leaped  off  his  stool.  His  hat  was  thrown  on 
his  head  by  a  species  of  sleight  of  hand,  and  he 
appeared  in  the  outer  office  suddenly,  like  a  stout 
Jack-in-the-box. 

"I'm  away,  Mr.  Jones  (to  his  head  clerk),  and 
won't  be  back  tih1  eleven  to-morrow  morning. 
Have  you  the  letters  ready?  I  am  going  round 
by  the  post-office,  and  will  take  charge  of  them." 

"  They  are  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  in  a  mild 
voice. 

Mr.  Jones  was  a  meek  man,  with  a  red  nose  and 
a  humble  aspect.  He  was  a  confidential  clerk,  and 
much  respected  by  the  firm  of  Sudberry  &  Co.  In 
fact,  it  was  generally  understood  that  the  business 
could  not  get  on  without  him.  His  caution  was  a 


8  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

most  salutary  counteractive  to  Mr.  Sudbeiry  s  reck- 
lessness. As  for  "  Co.,"  he  was  a  sleeping  partner, 
and  an  absolute  nonentity. 

Mr.  Sudberry  seized  the  letters  and  let  them  fall, 
picked  them  up  in  haste,  thrust  them  confusedly 
into  his  pocket,  and  rushed  from  the  room,  knock- 
ing over  the  umbrella-stand  in  his  exit.  The  sen- 
sation left  in  the  office  was  that  of  a  dead  calm 
after  a  sharp  squall.  The  small  clerk  breathed 
freely,  and  felt  that  his  life  was  safe  for  that  day. 


Three  Months1  liustication. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ME.    SUDBEKEY    AT    HOME. 

"  My  DEAE/'  cried  Mr.  Sudberry  to  his  wife,  ab- 
ruptly entering  the  parlor  of  his  villa,  near  Hamp. 
stead  Heath,  "  I  have  done  the  deed  ! " 

"Dear  John,  you  are  so  violent;  my  nerves  — 
really  —  what  deed  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  a  weak- 
eyed,  delicate  woman,  of  languid  temperament,  and 
not  far  short  of  her  husband's  age. 

"  I  have  written  off  to  secure  a  residence  in  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland  for  our  summer  quarters 
this  season." 

Mrs.  Sudberry  stared  in  mute  surprise.  "  John ! 
my  dear !  are  you  in  earnest  ?  Have  you  not  been 
precipitate  in  this  matter?  You  know,  love,  that  I 
have  always  trusted  in  your  prudence  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  the  spending  of  our  holiday;  but 
really,  when  I  think  "  — 

"  Well,  my  dear,  '  When  you  think/  —  pray,  go 
on." 

"  Don't  be  hasty,  dear  John ;  you  know  I  have 


10  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

never  objected  to  any  place  you  have  hitherto 
fixed  on.  Herne  Bay  last  year  was  charming, 
and  the  year  before  we  enjoyed  Margate  so  much. 
Even  Worthing,  though  rather  too  long  a  journey 
for  a  family,  was  delightful ;  and,  as  the  family  was 
smaller  then,  we  got  over  ,the  journey  on  the  whole 
better  than  could  have  been  expected.  But  Scot- 
land !  —  the  Highlands  ! "  — 

Mr.  Sudberry's  look  at  this  point  induced  his 
wife  to  come  to  a  full  stop.  The  look  was  not  a 
stern  look,  —  much  less  a  savage  look,  as  connubial 
looks  sometimes  are.  It  was  an  aggrieved  look ; 
not  that  he  was  aggrieved  at  the  dubious  recep- 
tion given  by  his  spouse  to  the  arrangement  he 
had  made;  —  no,  the  sore  point  in  his  mind  was 
that  he  himself  entertained  strong  doubts  as  to  the 
propriety  of  what  he  had  done  ;  and  to  find  these 
doubts  reflected  in  the  mind  of  his  faithful  better 
half  was  perplexing. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  said  the  worthy  merchant, "  go  on. 
Do  you  state  the  cons,  and  I'll  enumerate  the  pros, 
after  which  we  will  close  the  account,  and  see  on 
which  side  the  balance  lies." 

"  You  know,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  in  a  re- 
monsfcrative  tone,  "that  the  journey  is  fearfully 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  11 

long.  1  almost  tremble  when  I  think  of  it.  To  be 
sure,  we  have  the  railroad  to  Edinburgh  now  ;  but 
beyond  that  we  shall  have  to  travel  by  stage,  I 
suppose,  at  least  I  hope  so ;  but  perhaps  they  have 
no  stage-coaches  in  Scotland?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  have  a  few,  I  believe,"  replied 
the  merchant,  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah !  that  is  fortunate ;  for  wagons  are  fear- 
fully trying.  No,  I  really  think  that  I  could  not 
stand  a  wagon  journey  after  my  experience  of 
the  picnic  at  Worthing  some  years  ago.  Think  of 
our  large  family  —  seven  of  us  altogether  —  in  a 
wagon,  John  "  — 

"  But  you  forget,  I  said  that  there  are  stage- 
coaches in  Scotland." 

"  Well ;  but  think  of  the  slow  and  wearisome 
travelling  among  great  mountains,  over  precipices, 
and  through  Scotch  mists.  Lady  Knownothing 
assures  me  she  has  been  told  that  the  rain  never 
ceases  in  Scotland,  except  for  a  short  time  in 
autumn,  just  to  give  the  scanty  crops  time  to 
ripen.  You  know,  dear,  that  our  darling  Jacky's 
health  could  never  stand  the  Scotch  mists,  he  is  so 
very  delicate." 

"Why,  Mary!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sudberry,  abrupt- 


12  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

ly ;  "  the  doctor  told  me  only  yesterday  that  for  a 
boy  of  five  years  old  he  was  a  perfect  marvel  of 
robust  health — that  nothing  ailed  him,  except  the 
result  of  over-eating  and  the  want  of  open-air  ex- 
ercise ;  and  I  am  sure  that  I  can  testify  to  the 
strength  of  his  legs  and  the  soundness  of  his 
lungs ;  for  he  kicks  like  a  jackass,  and  roars  like  a 
lion." 

"  It  is  very  wrong,  very  sinful  of  the  doctor," 
said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  in  a  languidly  indignant  man- 
ner, "  to  give  such  a  false  report  of  the  health  of 
our  darling  boy  "  — 

At  this  moment  the  door  burst  open,  and  the 
"  darling  boy  "  rushed  into  the  room  —  with  a  wild 
cheer  of  defiance  at  his  nurse,  from  whom  he  had 
escaped,  and  who  was  in  full  pursuit  —  hit  his  head 
on  the  corner  of  the  table,  and  fell  flat  on  the  floor, 
with  a  yell  that  might  have  sent  a  pang  of  jealousy 
to  the  heart  of  a  Chippeway  Indian ! 

Mr.  Sudberry  started  up,  and  almost  overturned 
the  tea-table  in  his  haste;  but  before  he  could 
reach  his  prostrate  son,  nurse  had  him  kicking 
in  her  arms,  and  carried  him  off  howling. 

"  Darling  child  ! "  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  with  her 
hand  on  her  heart.  "  How  you  do  startle  me. 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  13 

John,  with  your  violence  !  That  is  the  fifteenth 
tea-cup  this  week." 

The  good  lady  pointed  to  a  shattered  member  of 
the  set  that  lay  on  the  tray  beside  her. 

"  I  have  just  ordered  a  new  set,  my  dear,"  said 
her  husband,  in  a  subdued  voice.  "  Our  poor  dear 
boy  would  benefit,  I  think,  by  mountain  air.  But 
go  on  with  the  cons." 

"  Have  I  not  said  enough  ?  "  replied  Mrs.  Sud- 
berry,  with  an  injured  look.  "  Besides,  they  have 
no  food  in  Scotland." 

This  was  a  somewhat  staggering  assertion.  The 
merchant  looked  astonished. 

"  At  least,"  pursued  his  wife,  "  they  have  noth- 
ing, I  am  told,  but  oatmeal.  Do  you  imagine  that 
Jacky  could  live  on  oatmeal?  Do  you  suppose 
that  your  family  would  return  to  London  in  a  con- 
dition fit  to  be  looked  at,  after  a  summer  spent  on 
food  such  as  we  give  to  our  horses?  No  doubt 
you  will  tell  me  they  have  plenty  of  milk,  —  but- 
termilk, I  suppose,  which  I  abhor.  But  do  you 
think  that  I  could  live  with  pleasure  on  sawdust, 
just  because  I  had  milk  to  take  to  it?  " 

"  But  milk  implies  cream,  my  dear,"  interposed 
the  merchant,  "  and  buttermilk  implies  butter,  and 


14  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

both  imply  cows,  which  are   strong   presumptive 
evidence  in  favor  of  beef.     Besides  "  — 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  Mr.  Sudberry.  /  know  bet- 
ter; and  Lady  Knownothing,  who  went  to  Scot- 
land last  year,  in  the  most  unprejudiced  state  of 
mind,  came  back  absolutely  horrified  by  what  she 
had  seen.  Why,  she  actually  tells  me  that  the  na- 
tives still  wear  the  kilt !  The  very  day  she  passed 
through  Edinburgh  she  met  five  hundred  men 
without  trousers !  To  be  sure,  they  ha<J  guns  on 
their  shoulders,  and  some  one  told  her  they  were 
soldiers ;  but  the  sight  was  so  appalling  that  she 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  impression ;  she  shut  her 
eyes,  and  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  straight 
through  the  town,  and  let  her  know  when  she  was 
quite  beyond  its  walls.  She  has  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  most,  if  not  ah1,  of  the  other  inhabitants 
of  that  place  were  clothed  —  perhaps  I  should  say 
unclothed  —  in  the  same  way.  What  surprised 
poor  Lady  Knownothing  most  was,  that  she  did 
not  see  nearly  so  many  kilts  in  the  Highlands  as 
she  saw  on  that  occasion  in  Edinburgh,  from  which 
she  concluded  that  the  natives  of  Scotland  are  less 
barbarous  in  the  north  than  they  are  in  the  south. 
But  she  did  see  a  few.  One  man  who  played  those 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  15 

hideous  things  called  the  pipes  —  which,. she  says, 
are  so  very  like  little  pigs  being  killed  —  actually 
came  into  her  presence  one  day,  sat  down  before 
her  with  bare  knees,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  with 
a  salt-spoon ! " 

"  That  is  a  dreadful  account,  no  doubt,"  said  Mr. 
Sudberry,  "but  you  must  remember  that  Lady 
Knownothing  is  given  to  exaggerating,  and  is 
therefore  not  to  be  depended  on.  Have  you  done 
with  the  cons  ?  " 

"  Not  nearly  done,  John,  but  my  nervous  system 
cannot  stand  the  sustained  contemplation  of  such 
things.  I  should  like  to  recover  breath,  and  hear 
what  you  have  to  say  in  favor  of  this  temporary 
expatriation,  I  had  almost  said,  of  your  family." 

"  Well,  then,  here  goes  for  the  pros,"  cried  Mr. 
Sudberry,  while  a  gleam  of  excitement  shot  from 
his  eyes,  and  his  clinched  hand  came  heavily  down 
on  the  table. 

" The  sixteenth  cup  —  as  near  as  possible"  ob- 
served his  wife,  languidly. 

"  Never  mind  the  cups,  my  dear,  but  listen  to 
me.  The  air  of  the  Highlands  is  salubrious  and 
bracing  "  — 

"  And  piercingly  cold,  my  dear  John/'  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Sudberry. 


16  Freaks  on  the  Fells,   or, 

"  In  summer,"  pursued  her  husband,  regardless 
of  the  interruption,  "  it  is  sometimes  as  clear  and 
warm  as  it  is  in  Italy  "  — 

"  And  often  foggy,  my  dear." 

"  The  mountain  scenery  is  grand  and  majestic 
beyond  description  "  — 

"  Then  why  attempt  to  describe  it,  dear  John  ?  " 

"The  hotels  in  most  parts  of  the  Highlands, 
though  rather  expensive  "  — 

"  Ah !  think  of  that,  my  dear." 

"  Though  rather  expensive,  are  excellent ;  the 
food  is  of  the  best  quality,  and  the  wines  are  pass- 
able. Beds  "  — 

"  Have  they  beds,  my  dear?  " 

"  Beds  are  generally  found  to  be  well  aired  and 
quite  clean,  though  of  course  in  the  poorer  and 
more  remote  districts  they  are  "  — 

"  Hush !  pray  spare  my  feelings,  my  dear  John." 

"  Remote  districts,  they  are  not  so  immaculate  as 
one  would  wish.  Then  there  are  endless  moors 
covered  with  game,  and  splendid  lakes  and  rivers 
full  of  fish.  Just  think,  Mary,  what  a  region  for 
our  dear  boys  to  revel  in!  Think  of  the  shoot- 
ing"— 

"  And  the  dreadful  accidents,  my  dear." 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  17 

"Think  of  the  fishing"  — 

"  And  the  wet  feet,  and  the  colds.  Poor  darling 
Jacky,  what  a  prospect  1 " 

"  Think  of  the  glorious  sunrises  seen  from  the 
mountain-tops  before  breakfast "  — 

"  And  the  falling  over  precipices,  and  broken 
necks  and  limbs,  dear  John." 

"Think  of  the  shaggy  ponies  for  our  darling 
Lucy  to  ride  on  "  — 

"  Ah  !  and  to  fall  off." 

"  And  the  dew  of  early  morning  on  the  hills,  and 
the  mists  rolling  up  from  the  lakes,  and  the  wild 
uncultivated  beauty  of  all  around  us,  and  the 
sketching,  and  walking,  and  driving  "  — 

"  Dreadful ! " 

"  And  bathing  and  boating  "  — 

"  And  drowning ! " 

"  Not  to  mention  the  "  — 

"  Dear  John,  have  pity  on  me.  The  pros  are  too 
much  for  me.  I  cannot  stand  the  thought "  — 

"  But,  my  dear,  the  place  is  taken.  The  thing  is 
fixed,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry,  with  emphasis. 

Mrs.  Sudberry  was  a  wise  woman.  When  she 
was  told  by  her  husband  that  a  thing  was  fixed,  she 
invariably  gave  in  with  a  good  grace.  Her  powers 
a 


18  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

of  dissuasion  having  failed,  —  as  they  always  did 
failj  —  8he  arose,  kissed  Mr.  Sudberry's  forehead, 
assured  him  that  she  would  try  to  make  the  most 
of  it,  since  it  was  fixed,  and  left  the  room  with  the' 
comfortable  feeling  of  having  acted  the  part  of  a 
dutiful  wife  and  a  resigned  martyr. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  a  doubtful  summer's 
evening,  several  weeks  after  the  conversation  just 
detailed,  that  a  heavy  stage-coach,  of  an  old-fash- 
ioned description,  toiled  slowly  up  the  ascent  of 
one  of  those  wild  passes  by  which  access  is  gained 
into  the  highlands  of  Perthshire. 

The  course  of  the  vehicle  had  for  some  time 
lain  along  the  banks  of  a  turbulent  river,  whose 
waters,  when  not  brawling  over  a  rocky  bed  in 
impetuous  velocity,  or  raging  down  a  narrow 
gorge  in  misty  spray,  were  curling  calmly  in 
deep  pools  or  caldrons,  the  dark  surfaces  of 
which  were  speckled  with  foam,  and  occasionally 
broken  by  the  leap  of  a  yellow  trout  or  a  silver 
salmon. 

To  an  angler  the  stream  would  have  been  cap- 
tivating in  the  extreme,  but  his  ardor  would  have 
been  somewhat  damped  by  the  sight  of  the  dense 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  19 

copsewood  which  overhung  the  water,  and,  while 
it  added  to  the  wild  beauty  of  the  scenery,  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  fishing  under  difficulties. 

When  the  coach  reached  the  narrowest  part  of 
the  pass,  the  driver  pulled  up,  and  intimated  that 
"  she  would  be  obleeged  if  the  leddies  and  gen- 
tlemen would  get  down  and  walk  up  the  brae." 

Hereupon  there  descended  from  the  top  of  the 
vehicle  a  short,  stout,  elderly  gentleman,  in  a 
Glengarry  bonnet,  green  tartan  shooting-coat, 
and  shepherd's-plaid  vest  and  pantaloons ;  two 
active  youths,  of  the  ages  of  seventeen  and  fif 
teen  respectively,  in  precisely  similar  costume; 
a  man-servant  iii  pepper  and  salt,  and  a  little  thin 
timid  boy  in  blue,  a  sort  of  confidential  page 
without  the  buttons.  All  of  them  wore  drab 
gaiters  and  shoes  of  the  thickest  conceivable 
description.  From  the  inside  of  the  coach  there 
issued  a  delicate  elderly  lady,  who  leaned,  in  a 
helpless  manner,  on  the  arm  of  a  young,  plain, 
but  extremely  fresh  and  sweet-looking  girl  of 
about  sixteen,  whom  the  elder  lady  called  Lucy 
and  who  was  so  much  engrossed  with  her  mother, 
that  some  time  elapsed  before  she  could  attend 
to  the  fervent  remarks  made  by  her  father  and 


20  Freaks  on  the   Fells ;  or, 

brothers  in  regard  to  the  scenery.  There  also 
name  forth  from  the  interior  of  the  coach  a  large, 
red-faced  angry  woman,  who  dragged  after  her  a 
little  girl  of  about  eight,  who  might  be  described 
as  a  modest  sunbeam,  and  a  little  boy  of  about 
five,  who  resembled  nothing  short  of  an  imp  in- 
carnate. Whjn  they  were  all  out,  the  entire 
family  and  household  of  Mr.  Sudberry  stood  in 
the  centre  of  that  lovely  Highland  pass,  and  the 
coach,  which  was  a  special  one  hired  for  the  oc- 
casion, drove  slowly  up  the  ascent. 

What  the  various  members  of  the  family  said  in 
the  extravagance  of  their  excited  feelings  on  this 
occasion  we  do  not  intend  to  reveal.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  day  was  doubtful :  in  the  south  the 
sky  was  red  with  the  refulgent  beams  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  which  gleamed  on  the  mountain  peaks 
and  glowed  on  the  purple  heather.  Towards  the 
north  dark  leaden  clouds  obscured  the  heavens, 
and  presaged  stormy  weather.  A  few  large  drops 
began  to  faU  as  they  reached  the  crest  of  the 
road,  and  opened  up  a  view  of  the  enclosed  valley 
or  amphitheatre  which  lay  beyond,  with  a  winding 
river,  a  dark  overshadowed  loch,  and  a  noble  back- 
ground of  hills.  In  the  far  distance  a  white  house 
was  seen  embedded  in  the  blue  mountains. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  21 

"Yonder's  ta  boose,"  said  the  driver,  as  the 
party  overtook  the  coach,  and  resumed  their 
places  —  the  males  on  the  top  and  the  females 
inside. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  !  look !  look ! "  cried  Mr.  Sud 
berry,  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  coach ;  "  there 
is  our  house  —  the  white  house  —  our  Highland 
home ! " 

At  this  moment  a  growl  of  distant  thunder  was 
heard  It  was  followed  by  a  scream  from  Mrs. 
Sudberry,  and  a  cry  of — 

"  You'd  better  send  Jacky  inside,  my  dear." 

"Ah,  he  may  as  well  remain  where  he  is,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Sudberry,  whose  imperfect  hearing  led 
him  to  suppose  that  his  spouse  had  said,  "  Jacky's 
inside,  my  dear ! "  whereas  the  real  truth  was  that 
the  boy  was  neither  out  nor  inside. 

Master  Jacky,  be  it  known,  had  a  remarkably 
strong  will  of  his  own.  During  the  journey  he 
preferred  an  outside  seat  in  all  weathers.  By  dint 
of  much  coaxing,  his  mother  had  induced  him  to 
get  in  beside  her  for  one  stage ;  but  he  had  made 
himself  so  insufferably  disagreeable,  that  the  good 
lady  was  thereafter  much  more  disposed  to  let  him 
have  his  own  way.  When  the  coach  stopped,  as 


22  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

we  have  described,  Jacky  got  out,  and  roundly 
asserted  that  he  would  never  get  in  again. 

When  the  attention  of  the  party  was  occupied 
with  the  gorgeous  scenery  at  the  extremity  of  the 
pass,  Jacky,  under  a  sudden  impulse  of  wicked- 
ness, crept  stealthily  into  the  copse  that  lined  the 
road,  intending  to  give  his  parents  a  fright.  In 
less  than  five  minutes  these  parents  were  galloping 
away  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour,  each  happy 
in  the  belief  that  the  sweet  boy  was  with  the 
other. 

Somewhat  surprised  at  the  prolonged  and  death- 
like silence  that  reigned  around  him,  Jacky  re- 
turned to  the  road,  where  he  actually  gasped  with 
horror  on  finding  himself  the  solitary  tenant  of  an 
apparently  uninhabited  wilderness.  Sitting  down 
on  a  stone,  he  shut  his  eyes,  opened  wide  his 
mouth,  and  roared  vehemently. 

At  the  end  of  about  five  minutes  he  ventured  to 
re-open  his  eyes.  His  face  instantly  assumed  an 
expression  of  abject  terror,  and  the  roar  was  inten- 
sified into  a  piercing  shriek  when  he  beheld  a 
fierce  little  black  cow  staring  at  him  within  a  yard 
of  his  face. 

A  drove  of  shaggy  Highland  cattle  had  come 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  23 

suddenly  round  a  turn  in  the  pass  while  Jacky's 
eyes  had  been  shut.  They  now  filed  slowly  and 
steadily  past  the  transfixed  boy,  as  if  they  were  a 
regiment  and  he  a  reviewing  general.  Each  animal 
as  it  came  up  stopped,  stared  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  passed  slowly  on  with  its  head  down,  as  if  sad- 
dened by  the  sight  of  such  a  melancholy  spectacle. 

There  were  upwards  of  a  hundred  animals  in  the 
drove ;  the  prolonged  and  maddening  agony  which 
Jacky  endured  may  therefore  be  conceived  but 
cannot  be  described. 

Last  of  all  came  the  drover,  a  kilted,  plaided, 
and  bonneted  Highlander,  quite  as  shaggy  as  the 
roughest  of  his  cattle,  and  rather  fiercer  in  aspect. 
He  was  not  so  in  reality  however,  for,  on  coming  to 
the  place  where  the  poor  boy  sat,  he  stopped  and 
stared  as  his  predecessors  had  done. 

"  Fat  is  she  doin*  there  ?  "  said  he. 

Jacky  paused,  and  gazed  for  one  moment  in 
mute  surprise,  then  resumed  his  roar  with  shut 
eyes  and  with  tenfold  vigor. 

As  it  was  evident  that  any  farther  attempt  at 
conversation  must  prove  fruitless,  the  drover  took 
Jacky  in  his  arms,  carried  him  to  the  extremity  of 
the  pass,  set  him  down,  and,  pointing  to  the  white 
house  in  the  blue  distance,  said,  — 


24  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Yonder's  ta  hoose ;  let  her  s  3e  how  she  can 
rin." 

Jacky  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  house  with  the  stare 
of  one  who  regarded  it  as  his  last  and  only  refuge, 
and  ran  as  he  had  never  done  before,  roaring  while 
he  ran. 

"  She's  a  clever  callant,"  observed  the  drover 
with  a  grim  smile,  as  he  turned  to  follow  his  cattle. 

Meanwhile  the  Sudberry  Family  reached  the 
White  House  in  the  midst  of  increasing  rain  and 
mists  and  muttering  thunder.  Of  course  Jacky's 
absence  was  at  once  discovered.  Of  course  the 
females  screamed  and  the  males  shouted,  while 
they  turned  the  mail-coach  entirely  inside  out  in  a 
vain  search  for  the  lost  one.  The  din  was  increased 
by  nine  shepherd  dogs,  which  rushed  down  the 
mountain-side,  barking  furiously  with  delight  (pro- 
bably) and  with  excitement  (certainly)  at  the  un- 
wonted sight  of  so  many  strangers  in  that  remote 
glen.  Presently  the  coach  was  turned  round,  and 
the  distracted  father  galloped  back  towards  th-a 
pass.  Of  course  he  almost  ran  over  his  youngest 
Bon  in  less  than  five  minutes  !  Five  minutes  more 
placed  the  recovered  child  in  its  mother's  arms. 
Then  followed  a  scene  of  kissing,  crying,  laughing, 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  25 

barking,  and  excitement,  which  is  utterly  inde- 
scribable, accompanied  by  thunder,  lightning,  and 
rain,  in  the  midst  of  which  tempestuous  mental  and 
elemental  commotion,  the  Sudberry  Family  took 
possession  of  their  Highland  home. 


26  Freaks  on  the  Fetts;  or, 


CHAPTER    IH. 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 

NEXT  morning  the  Sudberrys  were  awakened  to 
a  sense  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  into  which 
they  had  plunged,  by  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the 
crowing  of  cocks,  and  the  furious  barking  of  collie 
dogs,  as  the  household  of  Donald  McAllister  com- 
menced the  labors  of  a  new  day. 

Of  course  every  member  of  the  Sudberry  Family, 
with  the  exception  of  "  mamma,"  rushed  to  his  or 
her  respective  window. 

"  Oh  !  how  beautiful ! "  gushed  from  the  heart 
and  lips  of  Lucy,  as  she  gazed  in  wonder  through 
the  casement;  and  a  shriek  burst  from  Jacky,  as 
he  stared  in  wild  delight  upon  the  gorgeous  scene 
that  met  his  view. 

We  have  said  that  the  White  House  was  em- 
bedded among  the  blue  hills.  It  was  an  old  and 
extremely  simple  building,  having  an  oblong  front, 
two  sides,  and  a  back ;  two  stories,  six  windows, 
and  one  door  ;  which  last,  imbued,  apparently,  with 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  •  27 

a  dislike  to  being  shut,  was  always  open.  The 
house  appeared  to  have  an  insatiable  thirst  for 
mountain  air,  and  it  was  well  supplied  with  this 
fresh  and  exhilarating  beverage ;  for  it  stood  in  an 
elevated  position  on  the  slope  of  a  mountain,  and 
overlooked  a  wide  tract  of  flood  and  fell,  on  which 
latter  there  was  little  wood,  but  a  luxuriant  carpet 
of  grass  and  heather. 

The  weather  had  evidently  resolved  to  make 
amends  for  its  surly  reception  of  the  strangers  the 
previous  evening,  by  greeting  them  with  one  of  its 
sweetest  Highland  smiles  in  the  morning. 

When  Mr.  Sudberry,  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
delight,  ran  without  hat  or  coat  to  a  neighboring 
knoll,  accompanied  by  all  his  children,  the  scene 
that  met  his  eye  was  one  of  surpassing  grandeur 
and  beauty.  The  mists  of  early  morning  were 
rolling  up  from  the  loch  in  white,  fleecy  clouds, 
which  floated  over  and  partly  concealed  the  sides 
of  the  mountains.  The  upper  wreaths  of  these 
clouds,  and  the  crags  and  peaks  that  pierced 
through  them,  were  set  on  fire  by  the  rising  sun. 
Great  fissuies  and  gorges  in  the  hills,  which  at 
other  times  lay  concealed  in  the  blue  haze  of 
distance,  were  revealed  by  the  mists  and  the  slant- 


28  Freaks  on  the  Fells ;  or, 

ing  rays  of  the  sun,  and  the  incumbent  cliffs,  bluff 
promontories,  and  capes,  were  in  some  places 
sharply  defined,  in  others  luminously  softened,  so 
that  the  mountains  displayed  at  once  that  appear- 
ance of  solid  reality,  mingled  with  melting  mystery 
which  is  seen  at  no  period  of  the  day  but  early 
morning.  The  whole  scene  —  water,  earth,  and 
sky — was  so  involved,  that  no  lines  of  demarca- 
tion could  be  traced  anywhere  ;  only  bold  startling 
points,  melting  into  blue  and  white  masses  that 
mingled  with  each  other  in  golden  and  pearly 
grays  of  every  conceivable  variety.  Having  said 
thus  much,  we  need  scarcely  add  that  the  scene 
cannot  be  adequately  described. 

A  light  fragrant  air  met  the  stout  Englishman  as 
he  crested  the  hill,  and  filled  his  unaccustomed 
nostrils  with  sensations  that  could  not  have  been 
excelled  had  he  been  greeted  by  one  of  "  Afric's 
spicy  gales."  The  same  air,  with  telegraphic 
speed,  conveyed  to  the  collie  dogs  of  the  place 
the  information  that  the  Sudberrys  were  abroad; 
whereupon  the  whole  pack  —  nine  in  number  — 
bounded  open-mouthed  up  the  hill,  with  noise  and 
ferocity  enough  to  have  alarmed  the  bravest  of  the 
brave.  No  wonder  then  that  poor  Jacky  rushed 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  29 

into  h.s  father's  knees,  being  too  small  to  run  into 
his  arms.  But  these  seemingly  ferocious  dogs 
were  in  reality  the  gentlest  and  meekest  of  ani- 
mals. 

"Down,  Topper,  down!  down,  Lively, lass;  come 
into  heel,  Swaney,"  cried  Donald  McAllister,  as 
he  approached  his  tenants.  "  Good-mornin',  miss ; 
mornin',  gentlemen.  The  Ben  has  on  its  nightcap, 
but  I'm  thinkin'  it'll  soon  take  it  off." 

Donald  McAllister's  English  was  excellent,  but 
he  spoke  in  a  slow,  deliberate  manner,  and  with  a 
slightly  nasal  drawl,  which  sounded  very  peculiar 
in  the  ears  of  the  Sudberrys, — just  as  peculiar,  in 
fact,  as  their  speech  sounded  in  the  ears  of  Mc- 
Allister. 

"  Ah !  you  call  the  white  cloud  on  the  mountain- 
top  a  nightcap?  —  good,  very  good,"  cried  Mr. 
Sudberry,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  What  a  charming 
place  this  is,  a  paradisaical  place,  so  to  speak.  The 
dogs  won't  bite,  will  they  ? "  said  he,  patting  the 
alarmed  Jacky  on  the  head. 

"  No  fear  o'  the  dogs,  sir,"  returned  McAllister ; 
"they're  like  lambs.  It's  just  their  way.  Ye'll 
be  for  a  row  on  the  loch  the  day,  no  doot."  The 
Highlander  addressed  this  remark  to  Geoige  and 
Fred. 


30  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  former,  "  is  there  a  boat 
that  we  can  have  the  use  of?  " 

"  'Deed  is  there,  a  good  safe  boat  too,  that  can 
hold  the  whole  of  ye.  I'll  show  you  where  the 
oars  lie  after  breakfast." 

"  Capital,"  cried  Mr.  Sudberry,  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"  Charming,"  exclaimed  Lucy,  with  sparkling 
eyes. 

Master  Jacky  expressed  his  glee  with  a  charac- 
teristic cheer  or  yell,  that  at  once  set  fire  to  the 
easily  inflamed  spirits  of  the  dogs,  causing  them  to 
resume  their  excited  gambols  and  furious  bark- 
ing. This  effectually  stopped  the  conversation  for 
five  minutes. 

"I  delight  in  boating,"  observed  Fred,  when 
McAllister  had  quelled  the  disturbance. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  his  father ;  "  but  fishing  is  the 
thing  for  me.  There's  nothing  like  fishing.  You 
have  fine  trout  in  the  lake,  I  believe  ?  " 

"Ay,  an'  salmon  too,"  answered  McAllister. 

"  So  I've  heard,  so  I've  heard,"  said  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, with  a  glow  of  excitement  and  pleasure  on 
his  round  visage.  "  We  must  get  our  rods  and 
tackle  unpacked  at  once,  George.  You  are  a  great 
fisher,  no  doubt,  Mr.  McAllister  ? ' 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  31 

"  Well,  not  just  that,  but  I  dj  manage  to  fill  a 
basket  now  and  then,  an'  whiles  to  land  a  g'ilae.'' 

"  A  gilse  !  "  cried  George  in  surprise,  "  what  is 
that?" 

"  It  is  a  small  salmon  "  — 

"Oh!  you  mean  a  grilse,"  interposed  Mr.  Sud- 
berry. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,  an'  I  said  that,"  returned  Mc- 
Allister, slowly  and  with  emphasis.  "  Scienteefic 
men  are  not  agreed  whether  the  g'ilse  is  a  small 
salmon  or  not ;  I'm  of  opeenion  that  it  is.  But 
whether  or  not,  it's  a  famous  fish  on  the  table,  and 
lively  enough  on  the  line  to  delight  the  heart  of 
every  true  disciple  of  Isaac  Walton." 

"What,  you  have  read  that  charming  book?" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Sudberry,  looking  at  the  rugged 
Highlander  in  some  surprise. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  in  the  grave  quiet 
manner  that  was  peculiar  to  him ;  "  I  took  to  it  one 
winter  as  a  sort  o'  recreation,  after  readin'  through 
'  Paley's  Evidences.' " 

"  What ! "  cried  Mr.  Sudberry,  "whose  Evidences 
did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Paley's  ;  ye've  heard  o'  him,  dootless." 

"Why,  yes,"    replied  Mr.   Sudberry,   "I  hare 


32  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

heard  of  him,  but  I — I  must  confess  that  I  have 
not  read  him." 

At  this  point,  Jacky's  eye  fell  on  a  shaggy  little 
cow  which  had  strayed  near  to  the  party,  and  stood 
regarding  him  with  a  stern  inquisitive  glance.  Re- 
membering the  fright  he  had  received  so  recently 
from  a  similar  creature,  he  uttered  a  tremendous 
roar,  and  again  sought  refuge  in  his  father's  knees. 
The  discussion  on  Paley  was  thus  cut  short ;  for 
the  dogs — whose  chief  delight  was  to  bark,  though 
not  to  bite,  as  has  been  libellously  asserted  of  all 
dogs  by  Dr.  Watts  —  sprang  to  their  feet,  divided 
their  forces,  and,  while  two  of  the  oldest  kept  frisk- 
ing round  and  leaping  upon  the  party  in  a  pro- 
miscuous manner,  as  if  to  assure  them  of  protec- 
tion in  the  event  of  danger,  the  remainder  ran 
open-mouthed  and  howling  at  the  cow.  That  curly- 
headed,  long-horned  creature  received  them  at  first 
with  a  defiant  look  and  an  elevated  tail,  but  ulti- 
mately took  to  her  heels,  to  the  immense  delight 
of  Jacky,  whose  soul  was  imbued  with  a  deep  and 
altogether  unutterable  horror  of  cattle,  especially 
black  cows. 

The  service  which  the  dogs  rendered  to  him  on 
this  occasion  induced  the  boy  to  make  advances  of 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  33 

a  friendly  nature,  which  were  met  more  than  half- 
way, and  the  result  was  the  establishment  of  a 
good  understanding  between  the  Sudberrys  and 
the  collie  dogs,  which  ultimately  ripened  into  a 
lasting  friendship,  insomuch  that  when  the  family 
quitted  the  place,  Lucy  carried  away  with  her  a 
lock  of  Lively's  hair,  cut  from  the  pendent  tip  of 
her  right  ear. 

Presently  Mr.  Sudberry  pulled  out  his  watch, 
and,  exclaiming  that  it  was  breakfast-time,  trotted 
down  the  hill,  followed  by  his  family  and  escorted 
by  the  dogs. 

We  will  pause  here  to  describe  Mr.  Sudberry's 
family  briefly. 

George  was  the  merchant's  eldest  son.  He  was 
bold,  stout,  active,  middle-sized,  and  seventeen 
years  of  age ;  full  of  energy  and  life,  a  crack  rower, 
a  first-rate  cricketer,  and  generally  a  clever  fellow. 
George  was  always  jolly. 

Fred  was  about  the  same  height  as  his  brother, 
two  years  younger,  slender  in  form,  and  gentle  in 
disposition,  but  active,  too,  when  occasion  required 
it.  His  forte  was  drawing  and  painting.  Fred 
was  generally  quiet  and  grave.  Both  brothers 
were  musical. 
I 


34  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

Lucy  had  reached  the  interesting  age  of  sixteen. 
She  was  plain,  decidedly,  but  sweet-tempered  ir 
the  extreme.  Her  mouth  was  good,  and  her  eyes 
were  good,  and  her  color  was  good,  but  her  nose 
was  a  snub,  —  an  undeniable  and  incurable  snub. 
Her  mother  had  tried  to  amend  it  from  the  earliest 
hours  of  Lucy's  existence  by  pulling  the  point 
gently  downwards  and  pinching  up  the  bridge,— 
or,  rather,  the  hollow  where  the  bridge  ought  to 
have  been,  —  but  all  in  vain;  the  infant  turned  up 
its  eyes  when  the  operation  was  going  on,,  and  still 
turned  up  its  nose  when  it  was  over.  Yes,  al- 
though there  were  many  of  the  elements  of  beauty 
about  Lucy,  she  was  plain  —  but  sweet;  always 
bear  that  in  mind.  She  was  funny  too.  Not  that 
she  made  fun  of  her  own  free  will ;  but  she  appre- 
ciated fun  in  others  so  intensely  that  she  looked 
funny  herself,  and  she  giggled.  This  was  her  only 
fault,  she  giggled.  When  the  spirit  of  fun  was 
roused,  nothing  could  stop  her.  But  don't  suppose 
that  she  was  always  giggling ;  by  no  means.  She 
was  always  good  and  amiable,  often  grave,  and 
sometimes  deeply  serious. 

Matilda,  commonly  called  Tilly,  was  a  meek,  deli- 
cate, pretty  little  girl  of  eight  years  old.     She  was 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  35 

charmingly  innocent  and  ignorant.  In  the  last 
respect  she  resembled  her  mother,  who  was  the 
only  other  stupid  member  of  Mr.  Sudberry's  family. 
Being  deeply  impressed  with  the  fact  of  her  igno- 
rance and  stupidity,  Mrs.  Sudberry  went  on  the 
tack  of  boldly  admitting  the  same,  and  holding,  or 
affecting  to  hold,  ability  and  general  acquirements 
in  contempt. 

Mrs.  Brown  was  a  female  dragon,  nurse  to  Master 
Jacky  and  Miss  Tilly ;  she  tormented  the  former, 

whom  she  disliked,  and  spoiled  the  latter,  whom 

• 

she  loved. 

Hobbs  was  the  man-servant  of  the  family.  He 
was  characterized  chiefly  by  a  tendency  to  drop 
his  h's  in  conversation,  out  of  words  to  which  they 
naturally  belonged,  and  to  pick  them  up  and  insert 
them  in  the  most  contradictory  manner  in  words 
with  which  they  had  no  connection  whatever.  He 
was  also  marked  by  the  strong  regard  and  esteem 
which  he  had  for  his  master  and  family ;  the  stronger 
regard  and  esteem  which  he  had  for  himself,  and 
the  easy,  good-humored  way  in  which  he  regarded 
the  remainder  of  the  world  at  large  as  an  inferior 
order  of  beings. 

As  for  Peter,  he  has  already  been  described  a* 


36  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

the  timid  clerk  of  humble  origin,  whose  chief  duties, 
while  in  London,  were  to  wipe  up  ink  and  clear 
away  debris.  He  had  been  taken  with  the  family 
to  act  the  part  of  a  page  in  buttons  —  without  the 
buttons  —  and  to  make  himself  generally  useful. 
Hitherto  the  page's  bosom  had,  since  leaving  Lon- 
don, been  a  chamber  of  indescribable  terrors. 
Truly,  if,  as  is  said,  the  anticipation  of  death  be 
worse  than  the  reality,  poor  Peter  must  have  suf- 
fered a  prolonged  and  continuous  death  during  the 
last  few  days.  Never  having  been  on  a  railway 
before,  the  first  shriek  of  the  whistle  pierced  him 
like  a  knife,  the  shock  of  starting  rent  him  (figura- 
tively) like  a  thunderbolt.  Thereafter,  every  pass- 
ing train  was  an  excruciating  arrow  in  his  quiver- 
ing heart,  every  tunnel  was  a  plunge  into  the 
horrible  anticipation  that  "  here  it  was  coming  at 
last ! "  But  Peter's  trials  were  now,  for  a  time,  he 
fondly  hoped,  at  an  end.  Poor  boy !  he  little  knew 
what  was  in  store  for  him. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  37 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FIRST   COMERS  SERVED   FIRST,  ETC. 

WHEN  Mr.  Sudberry  reached  the  breakfast  par- 
lor, and  put  his  head  in  at  the  door  to  see  whether 
his  faithful  wife  were  there,  he  was  struck  abso- 
lutely dumb  by  the  amazing  tableau  vivant  that 
met  his  vision. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  aspect  of  the  room 
itself  to  surprise  him.  It  was  homely  and  neat. 
The  table  was  spread  with  a  clean  white  cloth,  on 
which  the  breakfast  equipage  was  displayed  with 
a  degree  of  care  and  precision  that  betrayed  the 
master-hand  of  Hobbs ;  but  on  the  edge  of  the 
table  sat  a  large  black  cat,  calmly  breakfasting  oft' 
a  pat  of  delicious  fresh  butter.  Beside  the  table, 
with  its  fore-legs  thereon  and  its  hind-legs  on  the 
floor,  stood  a  large  nanny-goat,  which  was  either 
looking  in  vain  for  something  suited  to  its  own 
particular  taste,  or  admiring  with  disinterested 
complacency  the  energy  with  which  two  hens 
and  a  bantam  cock  pecked  out  the  crumb  of  a 


38  FreaJcs  on  the  FeLis ;  or, 

wheaten  loaf.  If  the  latter  were  the  goat's  occu- 
pation, it  must  have  been  charmed  beyond  ex- 
pression ;  for  the  half  of  the  loaf  had  been  de- 
voured by  the  audacious  trio,  and,  just  at  the 
moment  of  Mr.  Sudberry's  appearance,  the  ban- 
tam's body  was  buried  over  the  shoulders,  and 
nothing  of  it  was  visible  to  the  horrified  master  of 
the  house  save  its  tail,  appearing  over  the  edge 
of  the  loaf. 

"  She — ee — w  ! "  roared  Mr.  Sudberry,  rushing 
into  the  room  and  whirling  his  arms  like  'the  sails 
of  a  windmill.  The  cat  vanished  through  the  win- 
dow like  a  black  vision  galvanized  and  made  aw- 
fully real.  The  poultry,  thrown  into  convulsions 
of  terror,  flew  screaming  round  the  room  in  blind 
haste,  searching  for  a  door  or  window  of  escape ; 
while  the  goat,  true  to  its  nature,  ran  at  the  ene- 
my on  its  hind-legs,  and,  with  its  head  down, 
attempted  to  punch  him  on  the  stomach.  By  an 
active  leap  to  one  side,  the  enemy  escaped  this 
charge ;  but  the  goat,  nothing  daunted,  turned  to 
renew  the  attack ;  next  moment  George,  Fred,  and 
Hobbs,  rushing  into  the  room,  diverted  its  atten- 
tion. Intimidated  by  overwhelming  numbers,  the 
animal  darted  through  the  doorway,  along  the  pas- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  39 

sage  and  out  at  the  front  door,  where  it  met  Peter 
unexpectedly,  and  wreaked  its  disappointed  ven- 
geance on  him  by  planting  on  his  chest  the  punch 
which  had  been  intended  for  his  master.  By  this 
means  that  timid  and  hapless  yauth  was  laid  flat 
on  the  green  grass. 

"  Is  Jacky  safe  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Sudberry,  running 
into  the  room  with  terror  on  her  countenance,  and 
falling  down  on  the  sofa  in  a  semi-swoon  on  being 
informed  that  he  was.  She  was  followed  by  Lucy 
and  Tilly,  with  scent-bottles,  and  by  nurse,  who 
exhibited  a  tendency  to  go  off  into  hysterics ;  but 
who,  in  consequence  of  a  look  from  her  master, 
postponed  that  luxury  to  a  more  convenient  season. 

Thus  the  "  expatriated "  family  assembled  to 
morning  prayers,  and  to  partake  of  their  first 
Highland  breakfast. 

Of  course  that  day,  being  their  first,  was  spent 
in  an  excited  and  rambling  endeavor  to  master  the 
localities  and  ascertain  the  most  interesting  points 
about  their  new  home. 

Mrs.  S.  and  her  daughters  examined  the  interior 
accommodation  of  the  White  House  minutely,  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Brown,  Hobbs,  and  the 
page,  disposed  their  goods  and  chattels  to  the  best 


40  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

advantage ;  while  her  husband  and  sons  went  om 
to  introduce  themselves  to  the  farmer  and  his 
family.  They  lived  in  a  small  cottage,  or  off-shoot, 
at  the  back  of  the  principal  dwelling,  in  close 
proximity  to  which  were  the  byre,  stable,  and 
barns. 

It  would  occupy  too  much  space  to  relate  in  de- 
tail all  the  things  and  sights  that  called  forth  the 
delight  and  surprise  of  the  excitable  Mr.  Sudberry. 
How  he  found  to  his  amazement  that  the  byre  was 
under  the  same  roof  with  the  farmer's  kitchen,  and 
only  separated  therefrom  by  a  wooden  partition 
with  a  door  in  it.  How  he  was  assailed  by  the 
nine  collie  dogs  the  moment  he  entered  the  kitch- 
en, with  threats  of  being  torn  to  pieces,  yet  was 
suffered  to  pass  unscathed.  How  he  and  his  sons 
were  introduced  by  Mr.  McAllister  to  his  mother, 
a  grave,  mild  old  woman,  who  puzzled  them  be- 
yond measure  ;  because,  although  clad  in  homely 
and  unfashionable  garments,  and  dwelling  in  a  hut 
little  better  than  the  habitation  of  the  cattle,  ex- 
cept in  point  of  cleanliness,  she  conversed  and 
conducted  herself  towards  them  with  a  degree 
of  unaffected  ease  and  urbanity  that  might  have 
graced  any  lady  in  the  land.  How  this  old  lady 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  41 

astonished  them  with  the  amount  of  general  knowl- 
edge that  leaked  out  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes'  talk.  How  she  introduced  the  dogs  by 
name,  one  by  one,  to  Jacky,  which  delighted  him 
immensely ;  ?  lA  how,  soon  after  that,  Jacky  at- 
tempted to  explore  out-of-the-way  corners  of  the 
farm-yard,  and  stepped  suddenly  up  to  the  knees 
in  a  mud-hole,  out  of  which  he  emerged  with  a 
pair  of  tight-fitting  Wellington  boots,  which  filled 
him  with  ecstasy  and  his  father  with  disgust. 

All  this  and  a  great  deal  more  might  be  dilated 
on  largely;  but  we  are  compelled  to  dismiss  it 
summarily,  without  further  remark. 

In  the  course  of  that  day  Mr.  Sudberry  and  his 
boys  learned  a  great  deal  about  their  new  home 
from  McAllister,  whom  they  found  intelligent, 
shrewd,  and  well-informed  on  any  topic  they  chose 
to  broach  ;  even  although  he  was,  as  Mr.  Sudberry 
said  in  surprise,  "  quite  a  common  man,  who  wore 
corduroy  and  wrought  in  his  fields  like  a  mere 
laborer."  After  dinner  they  all  walked  out  to- 
gether, and  had  a  row  on  the  lake  under  his  guid- 
ance ;  and  in  the  evening  they  unexpectedly  met 
Mr.  Hector  Macdonald,  who  was  proprietor  of  the 
estate  on  which  the  White  House  stood,  and  who 


42  Freaks  on  the  Fells;   or, 

dwelt  in  another  white  house  of  much  larger  size 
at  ths  head  of  the  loch,  distant  about  two  miles. 
Mrs.  Sudberry  had  expected  to  find  this  Highland 
gentleman  a  very  poor  and  proud  sort  of  man,  with 
a  rough  aspect,  a  superabundance  of  red  hair,  and, 
possibly,  a  kilt.  Judge,  then,  her  surprise  when 
she  found  him  to  be  a  young  gentleman  of  refined 
mind,  prepossessing  manners,  elegant  though  stur- 
dy appearance,  and  clad  in  gray  tweed  shooting- 
coat,  vest,  and  trousers,  the  cut  of  which  could  not 
have  been  excelled  by  her  own  George's  tailor, 
and  George  was  particular  in  respect  to  cut. 

Mr.  Macdonald,  who  carried  a  fishing-rod,  intro- 
duced himself,  and  accompanied  his  new  friends 
part  of  the  way  home ;  and  then,  saying  that  he 
was  about  to  take  a  cast  in  the  river  before  sunset, 
offered  to  show  the  gentlemen  the  best  pools.  "The 
gentlemen  "  leaped  at  the  offer  more  eagerly  than 
ever  trout  leaped  at  an  artificial  fly  ;  for  they  were 
profoundly  ignorant  of  the  gentle  art,  except  as  it 
is  practised  on  the  Thames,  seated  on  a  chair  in  a 
punt,  and  with  bait  and  float. 

Hector  Macdonald  not  only  showed  his  friends 
where  to  fish,  but  how  to  fish  ;  and  the  whole  thing 
appeared  so  easy  as  practised  and  explained  by 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  43 

,  that  father  and  sons  turned  their  steps  home- 
ward about  dusk,  convinced  that  they  could  "  do 
it "  easily,  and  anticipating  triumph  on  the  mor- 
row. 

On  the  way  home,  after  parting  from  Hector, 
they  passed  a  solitary  hut  of  the  rudest  descrip- 
tion, which  might  have  escaped  observation  had 
not  a  bright  stream  of  light  issued  from  the  low 
doorway  and  crossed  their  path. 

"  I  would  like  to  peep  into  this  cottage,  father," 
said  Fred,  who  cherished  strong  sympathies  with 
poor  people. 

"  Come  then,"  cried  Mr.  Sudberry,  "  let  us  ex- 
plore." 

Jacky,  who  was  with  them,  felt  timid  and  ob- 
jected ;  but  being  told  that  he  might  hang  about 
outside,  he  gave  in. 

They  had  to  bend  low  on  entering  the  hovel, 
which  was  mean  and  uncomfortable  in  appearance. 
The  walls  were  built  of  unhewn  stones,  gathered 
from  the  bed  of  the  river  hard  by ;  and  the  inter- 
stices were  filled  up  with  mud  and  straw.  Noth- 
ing graced  these  walls  in  the  shape  of  ornament: 
but  a  few  mugs  and  tin  pots  and  several  culinary 
implements  hung  from  rusty  nails  and  wooden  pegs. 


44  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

The  floor  was  of  hard  mud.  There  was  no  ceiling, 
and  the  rafters  were  stained  black  by  the  smoke  of 
the  peat  fire  which  burned  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  and  the  only  chimney  for  which  was  a  small 
hole  in  the  roof.  A  stool,  a  broken  chair,  and  a 
crooked  table,  constituted  the  entire  furniture  of 
the  miserable  place  ;  unless  we  may  include  a  heap 
of  straw  and  rags  in  a  corner,  which  served  for  a 
bed. 

Seated  on  the  stool,  and  bending  over  the  fire, 
was  an  old  woman,  so  wild  and  shrivelled  in  her 
appearance  that  a  much  less  superstitious  urchin 
than  Jacky  might  have  believed  her  to  be  a  witch. 
Her  clothing  may  be  described  as  a  bundle  of 
rags,  with  the  exception  of  a  shepherd's  plaid  on 
her  shoulders,  the  spotless  purity  of  which  con- 
trasted strangely  with  the  dirtiness  of  every  thing 
else  around.  The  old  creature  was  moaning  and 
moping  over  the  fire,  and  drawing  the  plaid  close 
round  her  as  if  she  were  cold,  although  the 
weather  was  extremely  warm.  At  first  she  took 
no  notice  whatever  of  the  entrance  of  her  visit- 
ors, but  kept  muttering  to  herself  in  the  Gaelic 
tongue. 

"  A  fine  evening,  my  good  woman/'  said  Fred, 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 


Three  Months'  Mastication.  45 

"  Hoo  do  ye  know  I'm  good  ? "  she  cried,  turn- 
ing her  gleaming  eyes  sharply  on  her  questioner. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  granny,"  put  in  Mr.  Sudberry, 
in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

The  effect  of  this  remark  on  the  old  woman 
was  the  reverse  of  what  had  been  expected. 

"  Granny !  granny ! "  she  shrieked  fiercely,  hold- 
ing up  her  skinny  right  arm  and  shaking  her  fist 
at  Mr.  Sudberry,  "  who  dares  to  ca'  me  granny  ?  " 

"  My  dear  woman,  I  meant  no  offence,"  said  the 
latter,  much  distressed  at  having  unwittingly 
roused  the  anger  of  this  strange  creature,  who 
continued  to  glare  furiously  at  the  trio. 

Jacky  kept  well  in  the  background,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  peeping  round  the  door-post. 

"  No  offence !  no  offence  !  an'  you  dare  to  ca'  me 
granny  1  Go  !  go !  go  1 " 

As  she  uttered  these  three  words  with  increas- 
ing vehemence,  the  last  syllable  was  delivered  in  a 
piercing  scream.  Rising  suddenly  from  her  stool, 
she  pointed  to  the  door  with  an  air  of  command 
that  would  have  well  become  the  queen  of  the 
witches. 

Not  wishing  to  agitate  the  poor  woman,  whom 
he  now  regarded  as  a  lunatic,  Mr.  Sudberry  turned 


46  FreaJcs  on  the  Fells;  or, 

to  g:>;  but  a  wonderful  change  in  the  expression 
of  her  face  arrested  him.  Her  eye  had  fallen  on 
the  round  visage  of  Jacky,  and  a  beaming  smile 
now  lighted  up  and  beautified  the  countenance 
which  had  so  recently  been  distorted  with  pas- 
sion. Uttering  some  unintelligible  phrase  in  Gae- 
lic, she  held  out  her  skinny  arms  towards  tho 
child,  as  if  entreating  him  to  come  to  her. 
Strange  to  say,  Jacky  did  not  run  away  or 
scream  with  fright  as  she  approached  him  and 
took  him  in  her  arms.  Whether  it  was  that  he 
was  too  much  petrified  with  horror  to  offer  any 
resistance,  or  that  he  understood  the  smile  of  affec- 
tion and  reciprocated  it,  we  cannot  tell ;  but  cer- 
tain it  is  that  Jacky  suffered  her  to  place  him  on 
her  knee,  stroke  his  hair,  and  press  him  to  her  old 
breast,  as  unresistingly  and  silently  as  if  she  had 
been  his  own  mother,  instead  of  a  mad  old  woman. 
Fred  availed  himself  of  this  improved  state  of 
things  to  again  attempt  to  open  an  amicable  con- 
versation; but  the  old  woman  appeared  to  have 
turned  stone  deaf,  for  she  would  neither  look  at 
nor  reply  to  him.  Her  whole  attention  was  de- 
voted to  Jacky,  into  whose  wondering  ears  she 
poured  a  stream  of  Gaelic,  without  either  waiting 
for  or  apparently  expecting  a  reply. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  4J 

Suddenly,  without  a  word  of  warning,  she 
pushed  Jacky  away  from  her,  and  began  to 
wring  her  hands  and  moan  as  she  bent  over  the 
fire.  Mr.  Sudberry  seized  the  opportunity  to  de- 
camp. He  led  Jacky  quietly  out  of  the  hut,  and 
made  for  the  White  House  at  as  rapid  a  pace  as 
the  darkness  of  the  night  would  allow.  As  they 
walked  home,  father  ,and  sons  felt  as  if  they  had 
recently  held  familiar  converse  with  a  ghost  or  an 
evil  spirit. 

But  that  feeling  passed  away  when  they  were 
all  seated  at  tea  in  the  snug  parlor,  relating  and 
listening  to  the  adventure ;  and  Jacky  swelled  to 
double  his  size,  figuratively,  on  finding  himself  in- 
vested with  sudden  and  singular  importance  as  the 
darling  of  an  "old  witch."  Soon,  however,  mat- 
ters of  greater  interest  claimed  the  attention  of 
Mr.  Sudberry  and  his  sons ;  for  their  bosoms  were 
inflamed  with  a  desire  to  emulate  the  dexterous 
Hector  Macdonald. 

Rods  and  tackle  were  overhauled,  and  every 
preparation  made  for  a  serious  expedition  on  *he 
morrow.  That  night  Mr.  Sudberry  dreamed  of 
fishing. 


Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 


CHAPTER    V. 

SOME   ACCOUNT   OF   A   GKEAT   PISHING   EXPEDITION. 

THERE  was  an  old  barometer  of  the  banjo  type 
in  the  parlor  of  the  White  House,  which,  whatever 
might  have  been  its  character  for  veracity  in 
former  days,  had  now  become  such  an  inveterate 
story-teller,  that  it  was  pretty  safe  to  accept  as 
true  exactly  the  rewrse  of  what  it  indicated. 
One  evening  Mr.  Sudberry  kept  tapping  that 
antique  and  musical-looking  instrument,  with  a 
view  to  get  it  to  speak  out  its  mind  freely.  The 
worthy  man's  efforts  were  not  in  vain,  for  the 
instrument,  whether  out  of  spite  or  not,  we  cannot 
say,  indicated  plainly  "  much  rain." 

Now,  it  must  be  known  that  Mr.  Sudberry  knew 
as  much  about  trout  and  salmon  fishing  as  that  cel- 
ebrated though  solitary  individual,  "  the  man  in 
the  moon."  Believing  that  bright,  dry,  sunny 
weather  was  favorable  to  this  sport,  his  heart 
failed  him  when  the  barometer  became  so  pro- 
phetically depressed,  and  he  moved  abolit  the  par- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  49 

lor  with  quick,  uneasy  steps,  to  the  distress  of  his 
good  wife,  whose  work-box  he  twice  swept  off 
the  table  with  his  coat-tails,  and  to  the  dismay  of 
George,  whose  tackle,  being  spread  out  for  exam- 
ination, was,  to  a  large  extent,  caught  up  and  hope- 
lessly affixed  to  the  same  unruly  tails. 

Supper  and  repose  finally  quieted  Mr.  Sudber- 
ry's  anxious  temperament ;  and  when  he  awoke  on 
the  following  morning,  the  sun  was  shining  in  un- 
clouded splendor  through  his  windoAV.  Awaking 
with  a  start,  he  bounced  out  of  bed,  and,  opening 
his  window,  shouted  with  delight  that  it  was  a  glo- 
rious fishing-day. 

The  shout  was  addressed  to  the  world  at  large, 
but  it  was  responded  to  only  by  Hobbs. 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is  a  hexquisite  day,"  said  that  wor- 
thy ;  "  what  a  day  for  the  Thames,  sir !  It  does 
my  'art  good,  sir,  to  think  of  that  there  river." 

Hobbs,  who  was  standing  below  his  master's 
window,  with  his  coat  off,  and  his  hands  in  his 
waistcoat-pockets,  meant  this  as  a  happy  and  del- 
icate allusion  to  things  and  times  of  the  past. 

"  Ah  !  Hobbs,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry,  "  you  don't 
know  what  fishing  in  the  Highlands  is,  yet;  but 
you  shall  see.  Are  the  rods  ready  ?  " 


50  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Yes,  sir." 

•'  And  the  baskets  and  books  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"And,  ah!  I  forgot  —  the  flasks  and  sandwiches 
—  are  they  ready,  and  the  worms  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Miss  Lucy's  a  inakin'  of  the  san'wiches 
in  the  kitchen  at  this  moment,  arid  Maclister's  a 
diggin'  of  the  worms. 

Mr.  Sudberry  shut  his  window,  and  George, 
hearing  the  noise,  leaped  out  of  bed  with  the  vio- 
lence that  is  peculiar  to  vigorous  youth.  Fred 
yawned. 

"  What  a  magnificent  day ! "  said  George,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  and  slapping  himself  preparatory 
to  ablutions ;  "  I  will  shoot." 

"  Will  you-a-ow  ?  yawned  Fred : "  I  shall  sketch. 
I  mean  to  begin  with  the  old  woman's  hut." 

"  What!  do  you  mean  to  have  your  nose  plucked 
off  and  your  eyes  torn  out  at  the  beginning  of  our 
holiday?" 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,  George  ;  but  I  mean  to  run 
the  risk  —  I  mean  to  cultivate  that  old  woman." 

"Hallo!  hi!"  shouted  their  father  from  below, 
while  he  tapped  at  the  window  with  the  end  of  a 
fishing-iod.  "Look  alive  there,  boys,  else  we'll 
have  breakfast  without  you." 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  51 

"  Ay,  ay,  father ! "     Fred  was  up  in  a  moment. 

About  two  hours  later,  father  and  sons  sallied  out 
for  a  day's  sport,  George  with  a  fowling-piece,  Fred 
with  a  sketch-book,  and  Mr.  Sudberry  with  a  fishing- 
rod,  the  varnish  and  brass-work  on  which,  being 
perfectly  new,  glistened  in  the  sun. 

"  We  part  here,  father,"  said  George,  as  they 
reached  a  rude  bridge  that  spanned  the  river  about 
half  a  mile  distant  from  the  White  House.  "  I  mean 
to  clamber  up  the  sides  of  the  Ben,  and  explore  the 
gorges.  They  say  that  ptarmigan  and  mountain 
hares  are  to  be  found  there." 

The  youth's  eye  sparkled  with  enthusiasm ;  for, 
having  been  born  and  bred  in  the  heart  of  London, 
the  idea  of  roaming  alone  among  wild  rocky  glens 
up  among  the  hills,  far  from  the  abodes  of  men, 
made  him  fancy  himself  little  short  of  a  second 
Crusoe.  He  was  also  elated  at  the  thought  of  firing 
at  real  wild  birds  and  animals — his  experiences 
with  the  gun  having  hitherto  been  confined  to  the 
unromantic  practice  of  a  shooting-gallery  in  Regent 
Street. 

"  Success  to  you,  George,"  cried  Mr.  Sudberry, 
waving  his  hand  to  his  son,  as  the  latter  was  about 
to  enter  a  ravine. 


52  Fr  edits  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  The  same  to  you,  father,"  cried  George,  as  he 
waved  his  cap  in  return,  and  disappeared. 
v  Five  miLutes'  walk  brought  them  to  the  hut  of 
the  poor  old  woman,  whose  name  they  had  learned 
was  Moggy. 

"  This,  then,  is  my  goal,"  said  Fred,  smiling.  "  I 
hope  to  scratch  in  the  outline  of  the  interior  before 
you  catch  your  first  trout." 

"  Take  care  the  old  woman  doesn't  scratch  out 
your  eyes,  Fred,"  said  the  father,  laughing.  "  Din- 
ner at  five  —  sharp,  remember." 

Fred  entered  the  hovel,  and  Mr.  Sudberry,  walk- 
ing briskly  along  the  road  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
diverged  into  a  foot-path  which  conducted  him 
to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  to  the  margin  of  a 
magnificent  pool  where  he  hoped  to  catch  his  first 
trout. 

And  now,  at  last,  had  arrived  that  hour  to  which 
Mr.  Sudberry  had  long  looked  forward  with  the 
most  ardent  anticipation.  To  stand  alone  on  a 
lovely  summer's  day,  rod  in  hand,  on  the  banks  of 
a  Highland  stream,  had  been  the  ambition  of  the 
worthy  merchant  ever  since  he  was  a  boy.  Fate 
had  decreed  that  this  ambition  should  not  be  grati- 
fied until  his  head  was  bald;  bu:  he  did  not  rejoice 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  53 

the  less  on  this  account.  His  limbs  were  stout  and 
still  active,  and  his  enthusiasm  was  as  strong  as  it 
was  in  boyhood.  No  one  knew  the  powerful  spirit 
of  angling  which  dwelt  in  Mr.  Sudberry's  breast. 
His  wife  did  not,  his  sons  did  not.  He  was  not 
fully  aware  of  it  himself  until  opportunity  revealed 
it  in  the  most  surprising  manner.  He  had,  indeed, 
known  a  little  of  the  angler's  feelings  in  the  days 
of  his  youth,  but  he  had  a  soul  above  punts,  and 
chairs,  and  floats,  and  such  trifles;  although,  like 
all  great  men,  he  did  not  despise  little  things. 
Many  a  day  had  he  sat  on  old  Father  Thames,  star- 
ing, with  eager  expectation,  at  a  gaudy  float,  as  if 
all  his  earthly  hopes  were  dependent  on  its  motions ; 
and  many  a  struggling  fish  had  he  whipped  out  of 
the  muddy  waters  with  a  shout  of  joy.  But  he 
thought  of  those  days,  now,  with  the  feelings  of  an 
old  soldier  Avho,  returning  from  the  wars  to  his 
parents'  abode,  beholds  the  drum  and  pop-gun  of 
his  childhood.  He  recalled  the  pleasures  of  the 
punt  with  patronizing  kindliness,  and  gazed  majesti- 
cally on  crag,  and  glen,  and  bright,  glancing  stream, 
while  he  pressed  his  foot  upon  the  purple  heath, 
and  put  up  his  fishing-rod ! 

Mr.  Sudberry  was  in  his  element  now.     The  deep 


54  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

flush  on  his  gladsome  countenance  indicated  the 
turmoil  of  combined  romance  and  delight  which 
raged  within  his  heaving  chest,  and  which  he  with 
difficulty  prevented  from  breaking  forth  into  an 
idiotic  cheer.  He  was  alone,  as  we  have  said.  He 
was  purposely  so.  He  felt  that,  as  yet,  no  member 
of  his  family  could  possibly  sympathize  with  his 
feelings.  It  was  better  that  they  should  not  wit- 
ness emotions  which  they  could  not  thoroughly 
understand.  Moreover,  he  wished  to  surprise 
them  with  the  result  of  his  prowess  —  in  regard  to 
which  his  belief  was  unlimited.  He  felt,  besides, 
that  it  was  better  there  should  be  no  witness  to 
the  trifling  failures  which  might  be  expected  to 
occur  in  the  first  essay  of  one  wholly  unacquainted 
with  the  art  of  angling  as  practised  in  these  remote 
glens. 

The  pool  beside  which  Mr.  Sudberry  stood  was 
one  which  Hector  Macdonald  had  pointed  out  as 
being  one  of  the  best  in  the  river.  It  lay  at  the 
tail  of  a  rapid,  hud  an  eddy  in  it,  and  a  rippling, 
oily  surface.  The  banks  were  in  places  free  from 
underwood,  and  only  a  few  small  trees  grew  near 
them.  The  shadow  of  the  mountain,  which  reared 
its  rugged  crest  close  to  it,  usually  darkened  the 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  55 

surface,  but  at  the  time  we  write  of  a  glowing  sun 
poured  its  rays  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  the 
pool  —  a  fact  which  filled  Mr.  Sudberry,  in  his  ig- 
norance, with  delight ;  but  which,  had  he  known 
better,  would  have  overwhelmed  him  with  dismay. 
In  the  present  instance  it  happened  that  "  igno- 
rance was  bliss,"  for  as  every  fish  in  the  pool  was 
watching  the  angler  with  grave  upturned  eyes 
while  he  put  up  his  rod,  and  would  as  soon  have  at- 
tempted to  swallow  Mr.  Sudberry's  hat  as  leap  at 
his  artificial  flies,  it  was  well  that  he  was  not  awaro 
of  the  fact,  otherwise  his  joy  of  heart  would  have 
been  turned  into  sorrow  sooner  than  there  was  any 
occasion  for. 

Musing  on  piscatorial  scenes  past,  present,  and 
to  come,  Mr.  Sudberry  passed  the  line  through  the 
rings  of  his  rod  with  trembling  and  excited  fingers. 
While  thus  engaged,  he  observed  a  break  on  the 
surface  of  the  pool,  and  a  fish  caused  a  number  of 
rings  to  form  on  the  water;  those  floated  toward 
him  as  if  to  invite  him  on.  Mr.  Sudberry  was  red- 
hot  now  with  hope  and  expectation.  It  was  an 
enormous  trout  that  had  risen.  Most  trouts  that 
are  seen,  but  not  caught,  are  enormous ! 

There  is  no  pleasure  without  its  alloy.     It  could 


56  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

not  be  expected  that  the  course  of  true  sport,  any 
moie  than  that  of  true  love,  should  run  smooth. 
Mr.  Sudberry's  ruddy  face  suddenly  turned  pale 
when  he  discovered  that  he  had  forgotten  his  fish- 
ing book  !  Each  pocket  in  his  coat  was  slapped 
and  plunged  into  with  vehement  haste,  while  drops 
of  cold  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead.  It  was 
not  to  be  found.  Suddenly  he  recollected  the  bas- 
ket at  his  back :  wrenching  it  open,  he  found  the 
book  there,  and  joy  again  suffused  his  visage. 

Selecting  his  best  line  arid  hooks  —  as  pointed 
out  to  him  by  Hector  —  Mr.  Sudberry  let  out  a  few 
yards  of  line,  and  prepared  for  action.  Remember- 
ing the  advice  and  example  of  his  friend,  he  made 
his  first  cast. 

Ha !  not  so  bad.  The  line  fell  rather  closer  to 
the  bank  on  which  he  stood  than  was  consistent 
with  the  vigor  of  the  cast;  but  never  mind,  the 
next  would  be  better  !  The  next  was  better.  The 
line  went  out  to  its  full  extent,  and  came  down  on 
the  water  with  such  a  splash  that  no  trout  in  its 
senses  would  have  looked  at  the  place  for  an  hour 
afterwards.  But  Mr.  Sudberry  was  ignorant  of 
this,  so  he  went  on  hopefully. 

As  yet  the  line  was  short,  so  he  let  out  half  a 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  57 

dozen  yards  boldly,  and  allowed  the  stream  to  draw 
it  straight.  Then,  making  a  violent  effort,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  causing  it  to  descend  in  a  series  of  cir- 
cles close  to  his  feet !  This,  besides  being  unex- 
pected, was  embarrassing.  Determined  to  succeed, 
he  made  another  cast,  and  caught  the  top  branch 
of  a  small  tree,  the  existence  of  which  he  had  for- 
gotten. There  the  hooks  remained  fixed. 

A  deep  sigh  broke  from  the  excited  man,  as  he 
gazed  ruefully  up  at  the  tree.  Under  a  sudden 
and  violent  impulse,  he  tried  to  pull  the  tackle  for- 
cibly away.  This  would  not  do.  He  tried  again 
till  the  rod  bent  almost  double,  and  he  was  filled 
with  amazement  to  find  that  the  casting-line,  though 
no  thicker  than  a  thread,  could  stand  such  a  pull. 
Still  the  hooks  held  on.  Laying  down  his  rod,  he 
wiped  his  forehead  and  sighed  again. 

But  Mr.  Sudberry  was  not  a  man  to  be  easily 
thwarted.  Recalling  the  days  of  his  boyhood,  ho 
cast  off  his  coat  and  nimbly  shinned  up  the  trunk 
of  the  tree.  In  a  few  minutes  he  reached  the  top 
branch  and  seized  it.  At  that  moment  the  bough 
on  which  he  stood  gave  way,  and  he  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  terrible  crash,  bringing  the  top 
branch  with  him  !  Gathering  himself  up,  he  care- 


58  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

fully  manipulated  his  neck,  to  ascertain  whether  or 
not  it  was  broken.  He  found  that  it  was  not ;  but 
the  line  was,  so  he  sat  down  quietly  on  the  bank 
and  replaced  it  with  a  new  one. 

Before  Mr.  Sudberry  left  that  spot  on  the  bank 
beside  the  dark  pool,  he  had  caught  the  tree  four 
times  and  his  hat  twice,  but  he  had  caught  no 
trout.  "  They're  not  taking  to-day,  that's  it,"  he 
muttered  sadly  to  himself;  "but  come,  cheer  up, 
old  fellow,  and  try  a  new  fly." 

Thus  encouraged,  by  himself,  Mr.  Sudberry 
selected  a  large  blue  fly  with  a  black  head,  red 
wings,  and  a  long  yellow  tail.  It  was  a  gorgeous, 
and  he  thought  a  tempting  creature  ;  but  the  trout 
were  evidently  not  of  the  same  opinion.  For  sev- 
eral hours  the  unfortunate  piscator  flogged  the 
water  in  vain.  He  became  very  hot  during  this 
prolonged  exertion,  stumbled  into  several  holes, 
and  wetted  both  legs  up  to  the  knees,  had  his 
cap  brushed  off  more  than  once  by  overhanging 
branches,  and  entangled  his  line  grievously  while 
in  the  act  of  picking  it  up,  bruised  his  shins  several 
times,  and  in  short  got  so  much  knocked  about, 
battered,  and  worried,  that  he  began  to  feel  in  a 
8tate  of  n  ental  and  physical  dishevelment. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  59 

Still  his  countenance  did  not  betray  much  of  his 
feelings.  He  found  fishing  more  difficult  in  all  re 
Bpects  than  he  had  expected ;  but  what  then?  Was 
he  going  to  give  way  to  disgust  at  the  first  disap- 
pointment ?  Certainly  not.  Was  he  going  to  fail 
in  perseverance  now,  after  having  established  a  rep- 
utation for  that  quality  during  a  long  commercial 
life  in  the  capital  of  England  ?  Decidedly  not.  Was 
that  energy,  that  vigor,  that  fervor  of  character  for 
which  he  was  noted,  to  fail  him  here  —  here,  in  an 
uncivilized  country,  where  it  was  so  much  re- 
quired—  after  having  been  the  means  of  raising 
him  from  a  humble  station  to  one  of  affluence; 
after  having  enabled  him  to  crush  through  all  diffi- 
culties, small  or  great,  as  well  as  having  caused 
him  to  sweep  hecatombs  of  crockery  to  destruction 
with  his  coat  tails  ?  Indubitably  not ! 

Glowing  with  such  thoughts,  the  dauntless  man 
tightened  his  cap  on  his  brow,  pressed  his  lips  to- 
gether with  a  firm  smile,  frowned  good-humoredly 
at  late  and  the  water,  and  continued  his  unflagging, 
though  not  unflogging,  way. 

So,  the  hot  sun  beat  down  upon  him  until  even- 
ing drew  on  apace,  and  then  the  midges  came 
out.  The  torments  which  Mr.  Sudberry  endured 


60  Freaks  on  the  Fells;   or, 

after  this  were  positively  awful,  and  the  struggles 
that  he  made,  in  the  bravery  of  his  cheerful  heart, 
to  bear  up  against  them,  were  worthy  of  a  hero  of 
romance.  His  sufferings  were  all  the  more  terrible 
and  exasperating,  that  at  first  they  came  in  the 
shape  of  an  effect  without  a  cause.  The  skin  of 
his  face  and  hands  began  to  inflame  and  to  itch 
beyond  endurance  —  to  his  great  surprise  ;  for  the 
midges  were  so  exceedingly  small  and  light,  that, 
being  deeply  intent  on  his  line,  he  did  not  observe 
them.  He  had  heard  of  midges,  no  doubt ;  but 
never  having  seen  them,  and  being  altogether  en- 
grossed in  his  occupation,  he  never  thought  of 
them  for  a  moment.  He  only  became  aware  of 
ever-increasing  uneasiness,  and  exhibited  a  ten- 
dency to  rub  the  backs  of  his  hands  violently  on 
his  trousers,  and  to  polish  his  countenance  with  his 
cuffs. 

It  must  be  the  effect  of  exposure  to  the  sun,  lie 
thought  —  yes,  that  was  it ;  of  course,  that  would 
go  off  soon,  and  he  would  become  case-hardened, 
a  regular  mountaineer  !  Ha !  was  that  a  trout  ? 
Yes,  that  must  have  been  one  at  last ;  to  be  sure, 
there  were  several  stones  and  eddies  near  the  spot 
vhere  it  rose,  but  he  knew  the  difference  between 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  61 

the  curl  of  an  eddy  now  and  the  splash  of  a  trout , 
he  would  throw  over  the  exact  spot,  which  was 
just  a  foot  or  two  above  a  moss-covered  stone  that 
peeped  out  of  the  water.  He  did  so,  and  caught 
it  —  the  stone,  not  the  trout  —  and  the  hooks  re- 
mained fixed  in  the  slimy  green  moss. 

Mr.  Sudberry  scratched  his  head  and  felt  inclined 
to  stamp.  He  even  experienced  a  wild  desire  to 
cast  his  rod  violently  into  the  river,  and  walk  home 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets;  but  he  restrained 
himself.  Pulling  on  the  line  somewhat  recklessly, 
the  hook  came  away,  to  his  immense  delight,  trail- 
ing a  long  thread  of  the  green  moss  along  with  it. 

Mr.  Sudberry  now  took  to  holding  a  muttered 
conversation  with  himself — a  practice  which  was 
by  no  means  new  to  him,  and  in  the  course  of  which 
he  was  wont  to  address  himself  in  curiously  disre- 
spectful terms.  "  Come,  come,  John,  my  boy,  don't 
be  cast  down  !  Never  say  die  !  Hope,  ay,  hope 

told  a  flatter Hallo  !  was  that  a  rise  ?  No,  it 

must  have  been  another  of  these — what  can  be 
the  matter  with  your  skin  to-day,  John  ?  I  don't 
believe  it's  the  sun,  after  all.  The  sun  never  drove 
any  one  frantic.  Never  mind  ;  cheer  up,  old  cock ! 
That  seems  a  very  likely  hole  —  a  beautiful  —  be- 


62  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

au-ti  —  steady !  That  was  a  good  cast  —  -  the  best 
you've  made  to-day,  my  buck ;  try  it  again  —  ha! 
ss  —  s  !  caught  again,  as  I'm  a  Dutchman.  This 
is  too  bad.  Really,  you  know  — well,  j^ou've  come 
off  easier  than  might  have  been  expected.  Now 
then,  softly.  What  can  be  the  matter  with  your 
face?  —  surely  —  it  cannot  be"  (Mr.  Sudberry's 
heart  palpitated  as  he  thought)  "  the  measles!  Oh! 
impossible,  pooh !  pooh !  you  had  the  measles  when 
you  were  a  baby,  of  course — d'ye  know,  John, 
you're  not  quite  sure  of  that.  Fevers,  too,  occa- 
sionally come  on  with  extreme  —  dear  me,  how  hot 
it  is,  and  what  a  time  you  have  been  fishing,  you 
stupid  fellow,  without  a  rise  !  It  must  be  getting 
late." 

Mr.  Sudberry  stopped  with  a  startled  look  as  he 
said  this.  He  glanced  at  the  sun,  pulled  out  his 
watch,  gazed  at  it  with  unutterable  surprise,  put  it 
to  his  ear,  and  groaned. 

"  Too  late  !  half-past  five  ;  dinner  at  five  — • 
punctually !  Oh  1  Mary,  Mary,  won't  I  catch  it 
to-night ! " 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  sun  as  he  spoke.  Being 
very  susceptible  to  outward  influences,  the  gloom 
of  the  shadow  descended  on  his  spirits  as  well  as 


Three  Months-  Rustication.  63 

his  person,  and  for  the  first  time  that  day  a  look 
of  deep  dejection  overspread  his  countenance. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  violent  twitch  at  the  end 
of  the  rod,  the  reel  spun  round  with  a  sharp 
whirr-r,  and  every  nerve  in  Mr.  Sudberry's  system 
recaived  an  electric  shock  as  he  bent  forward, 
straddled  his  legs,  and  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
fling  the  trout  over  his  head. 

The  slender  rod  would  not,  however,  permit  of 
such  treatment.  It  bent  double,  and  the  excited 
piscator  was  fain  to  wind  up  —  an  operation  which 
he  performed  so  hastily  that  the  line  became  en- 
tangled with  the  winch  of  the  reel,  which  brought 
it  to  a  dead  lock.  With  a  gasp  of  anxiety  he  flung 
down  the  rod,  and  seizing  the  line  with  his  hands, 
hauled  out  a  beautiful  yellow  trout  of  about  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  in  weight,  and  five  or  six  inches 
long.  . 

To  describe  the  joy  of  Mr.  Sudberry  at  thia 
piece  of  good  fortune  were  next  to  impossible. 
Sitting  down  on  his  fishing-basket,  with  the  trou* 
full  in  view,  he  drew  forth  a  small  flask  of  sherry, 
a  slice  of  bread,  and  a  lump  of  cheese,  and  pro- 
ceeded then  and  there  to  regale  himself.  He  cared 
nothing  new  for  the  loss  of  his  dinner ;  no  thought 


64  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

gave  he  to  the  anticipated  scold  from  neglected 
Mr?.  Sudberry.  He  gave  full  scope  to  his  joy  at 
the  catching  of  this,  his  first  trout.  He  looked  up 
at  the  cloud  that  obscured  the  sun,  and  forgave  it, 
little  thinking,  innocent  man,  that  the  said  cloud 
had  done  him  a  good  turn  that  day.  He  smiled 
benignantly  on  water,  earth,  and  sky.  He  rubbed 
his  face,  and  when  he  did  so  he  thought  of  the 
measles  and  laughed  —  laughed  heartily,  for  by 
that  time  he  had  discovered  the  true  cause  of  his 
misery ;  and  although  we  cannot  venture  to  say 
that  he  forgave  the  midges,  sure  we  are  that  he 
was  greatly  mollified  towards  them. 

Does  any  ignorant  or  cynical  reader  deem  such 
an  extravagance  of  delight  inconsistent  with  so 
trifling  an  occasion  1  Let  him  ponder  before  he 
ventures  to  exclaim  "  Ridiculous  ! "  Let  him  look 
round  upon  this  busy,  whirling,  incomprehensible 
world,  and  note  how  its  laughing  and  weeping  mul- 
titudes are  ofttimes  tickled  to  uproarious  merri- 
ment, or  whelmed  in  gloomy  woe,  by  the  veriest 
trifles,  and  then  let  him  try  to  look  with  sympathy 
on  Mr.  Sudberry  and  his  first  trout. 

Having  carefully  deposited  the  fish  in  his  basket, 
he  once  more  resumed  his  rod  and  his  expectations. 


Three  Months'  Itustication.  65 

But  if  the  petty  annoyances  that  beset  our  friend 
in  the  fore  part  oi  that  day  may  be  styled  harass- 
ing, those  with  which  he  was  overwhelmed  towards 
evening  may  be  called  exasperating.  First  of  all 
he  broke  the  top  of  his  rod,  a  misfortune  which 
broke  his  heart  entirely.  But  recollecting  sudden- 
ly that  he  had  three  spare  top-pieces  in  the  butt, 
his  heart  was  cemented  and  bound  up,  so  to  speak, 
in  a  rough  and  ready  manner.  Next,  he  stepped 
into  a  hole,  which  turned  out  to  be  three  feet  deep, 
so  that  he  was  instantly  soaked  up  to  the  waist. 
Being  extremely  hot,  besides  having  grown  quite 
reckless,  Mr.  Sudberry  did  not  mind  this ;  it  was 
pleasantly  cooling.  He  was  cheered,  too,  at  the 
moment,  by  the  re-appearance  of  the  sun,  which 
shone  out  as  bright  as  ever,  warming  his  heart, 
(poor,  ignorant  man!)  and,  all  unknown  to  him, 
damaging  his  chance  of  catching  any  more  fish  at 
that  time. 

Soon  after  this  he  came  to  a  part  of  the  river 
where  it  flowed  through  extremely  rugged  rocks, 
and  plunged  over  one  or  two  precipices,  sending 
up  clouds  of  gray  mist  and  a  dull  roar  which  over- 
awed him,  and  depressed  his  spirits.  This  latter 
effect  was  still  further  increased  by  the  bruising 


66  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

of  his  shins  and  elbows,  which  resulted  from  the 
rough  nature  of  the  ground.  He  became  quite 
expert  now  in  hanking  on  bushes  and  disentan- 
gling the  line,  and  experienced  a  growing  belief 
in  the  truth  of  the  old  saying  that  "  practice  makes 
perfect."  He  cast  better,  he  hanked  oftener,  and 
he  disentangled  more  easily  than  he  had  done  at 
an  earlier  period  of  the  day.  The  midges,  too 
increased  as  evening  advanced. 

Presently  he  came  upon  a  picturesque  portion  of 
the  stream  where  the  waters  warbled  and  curled 
in  little  easy-going  rapids,  miniature  falls,  and  deep 
oily  pools.  Being  an  angler  by  nature,  though  not 
by  practice  (as  yet),  he  felt  that  there  must  be 
something  there.  A  row  of  natural  stepping-stones 
ran  out  towards  a  splendid  pool,  in  which  he  felt 
assured  there  must  be  a  large  trout  —  perhaps  a 
grilse.  His  modesty  forbade  him  to  hint  "a  sal- 
mon," even  to  himself. 

It  is  a  very  difficult  thing,  as  every  one  knows, 
to  step  from  one  stone  to  another  in  a  river,  espe- 
cially when  the  water  flowing  between  runs  swift 
and  deep.  Mr.  Sudberry  found  it  so.  In  his  effort 
to  approach  the  pool  in  question,  which  lay  undei 
the  opposite  bank,  he  exhibited  not  a  few  of  the 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  67 

postures  of  the  rope-dancer  and  the  acrobat;  but 
he  succeeded,  for  Mr.  Sudberry  was  a  man  of  in- 
domitable pluck. 

Standing  on  a  small  stone,  carefully  balanced, 
and  with  his  feet  close  together,  he  made  a  beauti- 
ful cast.  It  was  gracefully  done  ;  it  was  vigorously, 
manfully  done  —  considering  the  difficulty  of  the 
position,  and  the  voracity  of  the  midges  —  and 
would  have  been  undoubtedly  successful  but  for 
the  branch  of  a  tree  which  grew  on  the  opposite 
bank  and  overhung  the  stream.  This  branch  Mr. 
Sudberry,  in  his  eagerness,  did  not  observe.  In 
casting,  he  thrust  the  end  of  his  rod  violently  into 
it;  the  line  twirled  in  dire  confusion  round  the 
leaves  and  small  boughs,  and  the  drag  hook,  as  if 
to  taunt  him,  hung  down  within  a  foot  of  his  nose. 

Mr.  Sudberry  in  despair  made  a  desperate  grasp 
at  this  and  caught  it.  More  than  that  —  it  caught 
him,  and  sunk  into  his  forefinger  over  the  barb,  so 
that  he  could  not  get  it  out.  The  rock  on  which 
he  stood  was  too  narrow  to  admit  of  much  move- 
ment, much  less  to  permit  of  his  resting  the  butt 
of  his  rod  on  it,  even  if  that  had  been  practicable 
—  which  it  was  not,  owing  to  the  line  being  fast  to 
the  bough,  and  the  reel  in  a  state  of  dead-lock  from 


68  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

some  indescribable  manoeuvre  to  which  it  had  pre- 
viously been  subjected. 

There  he  stood,  the  very  personification  of  de- 
spair ;  but  while  standing  there  he  revolved  in  his 
mind  the  best  method  of  releasing  his  line  without 
breaking  it  or  further  damaging  his  rod.  Alas ! 
fortune,  in  this  instance,  did  not  favor  the  brave. 
While  he  was  looking  up  in  rueful  contemplation 
of  the  havoc  above,  and  then  down  at  his  pierced 
and  captured  finger,  his  foot  slipped  and  he  fell  with 
a  heavy  plunge  into  deep  water.  That  settled  the 
question.  The  whole  of  his  tackle  remained  at- 
tached to  the  fatal  bough  excepting  the  hook  in  his 
finger,  with  which,  and  the  remains  of  his  fishing- 
rod,  he  floundered  to  the  shore. 

Mr.  Sudberry's  first  act  on  gaining  the  land  was 
to  look  into  his  basket,  where,  to  his  great  relief, 
the  trout  was  still  reposing.  His  n£xt  was  to  pick 
up  his  hat,  which  was  sailing  in  an  eddy  fifty  yards 
down  the  stream.  Then  he  squeezed  the  water  out 
of  his  garments,  took  down  his  rod,  with  a  heavy 
sigh  strangely  mingled  with  a  triumphant  smile,  and 
turned  his  steps  home  just  as  the  sun  began  to  dip 
behind  the  peaks  of  the  distant  hills. 

To  his  fur-prise  and  relief,  Mrs.  Sudberry  did  not 


Three  Hontlis1  Rustication.  69 

scold  when,  about  an  hour  later,  he  entered  the  hall 
or  porch  of  the  White  House  with  the  deprecatory 
air  of  a  dog  that  knows  he  has  been  misbehaving, 
and  with  the  general  aspect  of  a  drowned  rat.  His 
wife  had  been  terribly  anxious  about  his  non-arrival, 
and  the  joy  she  felt  on  seeing  him  safe  and  well  in- 
duced her  to  forget  the  scold. 

"  Oh !  John  dear,  quick,  get  off  your  clothes,"  was 
her  first  exclamation. 

As  for  Jacky,  he  uttered  a  cheer  of  delight  and 
amazement  at  beholding  his  father  in  such  a  woful 
plight ;  and  he  spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
in  a  state  of  impish  triumph ;  for,  had  not  his  own 
father  come  home  in  the  same  wet  and  draggled 
condition  as  that  in  which  he  himself  had  presented 
himself  to  Mrs.  Brown  earlier  in  the  day,  and  for 
which  he  had  received  a  sound  whipping?  "Hoo- 
ray ! "  and  with  that  the  amiable  child  went  off  to 
inform  his  worthy  nurse  that  "  papa  was  as  bad  a 
boy  as  himself — badder,  in  fact;  for  he  (Jacky) 
had  only  been  in  the  water  up  to  the  waist,  while 
papa  bad  gone  into  it  head  and  heels  I " 


70  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  PICNIC. 

A  VISION  of  beauty  now  breaks  upon  the  scene  ! 
This  vision  is  tall,  graceful,  and  commanding  in 
figure.  It  has  long  black  ringlets,  piercing  black 
eyes,  a  fair  delicate  skin,  and  a  bewitching  smile 
that  displays  a  row  of —  of  "  pearls  !  "  The  vision 
is  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  answers  to  the 
romantic  name  of  Flora  Macdonald.  It  is  sister  to 
that  stalwart  Hector  who  first  showed  Mr.  Sudber- 
ry  how  to  fish ;  and  stately,  sedate,  and  beautiful 
does  it  appear,  as,  leaning  on  its  brother's  arm,  it 
ascends  the  hill  towards  the  White  House,  where 
extensive  preparations  are  being  made  for  a  picnic. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Sudberry,"  cries  Hector, 
doffing  his  bonnet  and  bowing  low  to  Lucy.  "  Al- 
low me  to  introduce  my  sister,  Flora ;  but  (glan- 
cing at  the  preparations)  I  fear  that  my  visit  is 
inopportune." 

Mr.  Sudberry  rushes  forward  and  shakes  Hector 
and  sister  heartily  by  the  hand. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  71 

"My  dear  sir,  my  dear  madam,  inopportune! 
impossible  !  I  am  charmed.  We  are  just  going  on 
a  picnic,  that  is  all,  and  you  will  go  with  us. 
Lucy,  my  dear,  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Macdonald  "  — 

"  Flora,  my  good  sir ;  pray  do  not  let  us  stand 
upon  ceremony,"  interposes  Hector. 

Lucy  bows  with  a  slight  air  of  bashful  reserve ; 
Flora  advances  and  boldly  offers  her  hand.  The 
blue  eyes  and  the  black  meet ;  the  former  twinkle, 
the  latter  beam,  and  the  knot  is  tied  ;  they  are  fast 
friends  for  life ! 

"  Glorious  day,"  cries  Mr.  Sudberry,  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"  Magnificent,"  assents  Hector.  "  You  are  fortu- 
nate in  the  weather,  for,  to  say  truth,  we  have  lit- 
tle enough  of  sunshine  here.  Sometimes  it  rains 
for  three  or  four  weeks,  almost  without  cessation."- 

"Does  it  indeed?" 

Mr.  Sudberry's  visage  elongates  a  little  for  one 
moment.  Just  then  George  and  Fred  come  out  of 
the  White  House  laden  with  hampers  and  fishing- 
baskets  full  of  provisions.  They  start,  gaze  in  sur« 
prise  at  the  vision,  and  drop  the  provisions. 

"These  are  my  boys, Miss  Macdonald — Hector's 


72  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

sister,  lads,"  cries  Mr.  Sudberry.  "  You'll  join  ua^ 
I  trust?"  (to  Hector.) 

Hector  assents  "with  pleasure."  He  is  a  most 
amiable  and  accommodating  man.  Meanwhile 
George  and  Fred  shake  hands  with  Flora,  and 
express  their  "  delight,  their  pleasure,  &c.,  at  this 
unexpected  meeting  which,  <fcc.,  &c."  Their  eyes 
meet,  too,  as  Lucy's  and  Flora's  had  met  a  minute 
before.  Whether  the  concussion  of  that  meeting 
is  too  severe,  we  cannot  say,  but  the  result  is,  that 
the  three  pair  of  eyes  drop  to  the  ground,  and 
their  owners  blush.  George  even  goes  the  length 
of  stammering  something  incoherent  about  "  High- 
land scenery,"  when  a  diversion  is  created  in  his 
favor  by  Jacky,  who  comes  suddenly  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  with  a  North-American-Indian 
howl,  and  with  the  nine  dogs  tearing  after  him 
clamorously. 

Jacky  tumbles  over  a  basket,  of  course  (a  state 
of  disaster  is  his  normal  condition),  bruises  his 
shins,  and  yells  fearfully,  to  the  dismay  of  his 
mother,  who  runs  shrieking  to  the  window  in  her 
dressing-gown,  meets  the  gaze  of  Hector  and  Flora 
Macdonald,  and  retires  precipitately  in  discomfit- 
ure. 


Three  MontJis'  Hustication.  73 

No  such  sensibility  affects  the  stern  bosom  of 
Mrs.  Biown.  who  darts  out  at  the  front  door, 
catches  the  unhappy  boy  by  one  arm,  and  drags 
him  into  the  house  by  it  as  if  it  were  a  rope,  the 
child  a  homeward-bound  vessel,  and  she  a  tug- 
steamer  of  nine  hundred  horse-power.  The  sounds 
that  proceed  from  the  nursery  thereafter  are  strik- 
ingly suggestive :  they  might  be  taken  for  loud 
clapping  of  hands,  but  the  shrieks  which  follow 
forbid  the  idea  of  plaudits. 

Poor  Tilly,  who  is  confused  by  the  uproar,  fol- 
lows the  nurse  timidly,  bent  upon  intercession,  for 
she  loves  Jacky  dearly. 

The  nine  dogs  —  easy-going,  jovial  creatures  — 
at  once  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  the  ham  and 
cold  chicken  have  been  prepared  and  laid  out 
there  on  the  green  hill-side  for  their  special  enter- 
tainment. They  make  a  prompt  dash  at  the  ham- 
pers. Gentlemen  and  ladies  alike  rush  to  the 
rescue,  and  the  dogs  are  obliged  to  retire.  They 
do  so  with  a  surprised  and  injured  look  in  their 
innocent  eyes. 

"Have  you  one  or  two  raw  onions  and  a  few 
cold  boiled  potatoes  ?  "  inquires  Hector. 

"  I'll  run  and  see,"  cries  George,  who  soon  re- 
turns with  the  desired  edibles  in  a  tin  can. 


74  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"That  will  do.  Now  I  shall  let  you  taste  a 
potato  salad;  meanwhile  I  will  assist  in  carrying 
the  baskets  down  to  the  boat." 

Hector's  and  Lucy's  eyes  meet  as  this  is  said. 
There  must  be  some  unaccountable  influence  in 
the  atmosphere  this  morning,  for  the  meeting  of 
eyes,  all  round,  seems  to  produce  unusual  re- 
sults ! 

"Will  Mr.  McAllister  accompany  us?"  says 
Mr.  Sudberry. 

Mr.  McAllister  permits  a  quiet  smile  to  disturb 
the  gravity  of  his  countenance,  and  agrees  to  do 
so,  at  the  same  time  making  vague  reference  to 
the  groves  of  Arcadia,  and  the  delight  of  dining 
alfresco,  specially  in  wet  weather,  —  observations 
which  surprise  Mr.  Sudberry,  and  cause  Hector 
and  the  two  brothers  to  laugh. 

Mrs.  Sudberry  is  ready  at  last!  The  gentle- 
men and  Hobbs  load  themselves,  and,  followed  by 
Jacky  and  the  ladies,  proceed  to  the  margin  of 
the  loch,  which  sheet  of  water  Mr.  Sudberry 
styles  a  "  lock,"  while  his  better  half  deliberately 
and  obstinately  calls  it  a  "  lake."  The  party  is  a 
large  one  for  so  small  a  boat,  but  it  holds  them 
all  easily.  Besides,  the  day  is  calm  and  the 


TItree  Months'  Rustication.  75 

water  lies  like  a  sheet  of  pure  glass ;  it  seems 
almost  a  pity  to  break  such  a  faithful  mirror  with 
the  plashing  oars  as  they  row  away. 

Thus,  pleasantly,  the  picnic  began  ! 

George  and  Fred  rowed,  Hector  steered,  and 
the  ladies  sang,  —  Mr.  Sudberry  assisting  with  a 
bass.  His  voice,  being  a  strong  baritone,  was 
overwhelmingly  loud  in  the  middle  notes,  and 
sank  into  a  muffled  ineffective  rumble  in  the 
deep  tones.  Having  a  bad  ear  for  time,  he  dis- 
concerted the  ladies  —  also  the  rowers.  But 
what  did  that  matter  ?  He  was  overflowing  with 
delight,  and  apologized  for  his  awkwardness  by 
laughing  loudly  and  begging  the  ladies  to  begin 
again.  This  they  always  did,  with  immense  good 
humor.  Mrs.  Sudberry  had  two  engrossing  sub- 
jects of  contemplation.  The  one  was  the  boat, 
which,  she  was  firmly  persuaded,  was  on  the  point 
of  upsetting  when  any  one  moved  ever  so  lit- 
tle; the  other  was  Jacky,  who,  owing  to  some 
strange  impulse  natural  to  his  impish  character, 
strove  to  stretch  as  much  of  his  person  beyond  the 
side  of  the  boat  as  was  possible  without  absolutely 
throwing  himself  overboard. 

The  loch  was  upwards  of  three  miles  in  length  j 


76  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

before  the  party  had  gone  half  the  disk  nee  Mr, 
Sudberry  senior  had  sung  himself  quite  hoarse, 
and  Master  Sudberry  junior  had  leaped  three- 
quarters  of  his  length  out  of  the  boat  six  times, 
and  in  various  other  ways  had  terrified  his  poor 
mother  almost  into  fits,  and  imperilled  the  lives  of 
the  party  more  than  once. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Fred,  when  his  father  con- 
cluded a  fine  old  boat-song  with  a  magnificent 
flourish  worthy  of  an  operatic  artiste,  "  can  any 
one  tell  me  any  thing  about  the  strange  old  woman 
that  lives  down  in  the  hut  near  the  bridge  ?  " 

"  Ha !  ha  ! "  laughed  George,  "  I  can  tell  you 
that  she's  an  old  witch,  and  a  very  fierce  one 
too." 

A  slight  frown  gathered  on  Flora's  white  fore- 
head, and  a  flash  shot  from  her  dark  eyes,  as 
George  said  this,  but  George  saw  it  not.  Lucy 
did,  however,  and  became  observant,  while  George 
continued,  — 

"  But  methinks,  Fred,  that  the  long  visit  you 
paid  her  lately  must  have  been  sadly  misapplied 
if  you  have  not  pumped  her  history  out  of  her." 

"I  went  to  paint,  mt  to  pump.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Macdonald  can  tell  me  about  her." 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  77 

"  Not  I,"  said  Hector,  lighting  a  cigar.  "  I 
only  know  that  she  lost  her  grandson  about  six 
years  ago,  and  that  she's  been  mad  ever  since, 
poor  thing." 

"  For  shame,  Hector,"  said  Flora ;  "  you  know 
that  poor  old  Moggy  is  no  more  mad  than  your- 
self." 

"  Possibly  not,  sweet  sister,  but  as  you  often 
tell  me  that  I  am  mad,  and  as  I  never  deny  the 
charge,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  said  nothing 
to  vindicate  the  old  woman's  character  for  sanity." 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Flora,  turning  from  her 
brother,  and  speaking  with  warmth  to  Fred; 
"  if  you  knew  how  much  that  unhappy  old  crea- 
ture has  suffered,  you  would  not  be  surprised  to 
find  her  somewhat  cross  at  times.  She  is  one  of 
my  people,  and  I'm  very  glad  to  find  that  you  take 
an  interest  in  her." 

111  My  people!'  Flora  then  takes  an  interest  in 
the  poor,"  thought  the  observant  Lucy.  Another 
link  was  added  to  the  chain  of  friendship. 

"Do  tell  us  about  her,  please,"  cried  George. 
"There  is  nothing  that  I  love  so  much  as  a 
story  —  especially  a  horrible  one,  with  two  or 
three  dreadful  murders  to  ^hill  one's  blood,  arid 


78  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

a  deal  of  retributive  justice  to  warm  it  up  again. 
I'm  dying  to  know  about  old  Moggy." 

"Are  you?"  said  Flora  saucily.  "I'm  glad  to 
hear  that,  because  I  mean  to  keep  you  in  a  dying 
state.  I  will  tell  the  story  as  a  dead  secret  to 
Lucy,  when  I  take  her  to  see  my  poor  people, 
and  you  sha'n't  hear  it  for  weeks  to  come." 

George  cast  up  his  eyes  in  affected  despair,  and 
said  with  a  groan,  that  he  "  would  endeavor  to 
exist  notwithstanding." 

"  Oh !  /  know  all  about  old  Moggy,"  cried  Jacky 
with  energy. 

Every  one  looked  at  the  boy  in  surprise.  In  the 
midst  of  the  foregoing  dialogue  he  had  suddenly 
ceased  to  tempt  his  fate,  and  sat  down  quietly 
with  a  hand  on  each  knee  and  his  eyes  fixed  in- 
tently on  Flora  Macdonald  —  to  the  surprise  and 
secret  joy  of  his  mother,  who,  being  thus  relieved 
from  anxiety  on  his  account,  had  leisure  to  trans- 
fer the  agony  of  her  attention  to  the  boat. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  her,  child  ? "  asked 
Flora. 

"She's  jolly,"  replied  the  boy  with  prompt  vi- 
vacity. 

"  Most  genuine  testimony  in  her  favor,"  laughed 


Three  Months'1  Rustication.  79 

Hector,  "  though  the  word  is  scarcely  appropriate 
to  one  whose  temper  is  sour." 

"Why  do  you  think  her  jolly,  my  boy?"  said 
Flora. 

"  'Cause  I  do.     She's  a  old  brick  !  " 

"  Jacky,  darling,"  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  "  do  try 
to  give  up  those  ugly  slang  words  —  they're  so 
naughty  —  that  is  to  say  —  at  least  —  they  are 
very  ugly  if  they're  not  positively  naughty." 

"  She's  a  jolly  old  brick,"  retorted  Jacky,  with  a 
look  at  his  mother  that  was  the  concentrated  es- 
sence of  defiance. 

"  Dear  child  !  " 

Lucy  snickered  and  coughed  somewhat  violently 
into  her  handkerchief,  while  Flora,  repressing  a 
smile,  said,  — 

"  But  why  does  Jacky  like  old  Moggy  so  much  ?  " 

u  Hallo  !  don't  run  us  ashore,"  shouted  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, starting  up  with  a  sudden  impetuosity  which 
shook  the  boat  and  sent  a  pang  to  the,  heart  of  his 
wife,  the  sharpness  of  which  no  words  can  convey. 
A  piercing  shriek,  however,  betrayed  the  state  of 
her  feelings  as  the  boat  was  swept  violently  round 
by  George  to  avoid  a  point  of  rock.  As  they  were 
now  drawing  near  to  the  spot  where  it  was  pro* 


80  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

posed  that  they  should  picnic,  Jucky  suddenly  be« 
came  alive  to  the  fact  that  in  his  interest  about  old 
Moggy  he  had  been  betrayed  into  a  forgetfulness 
of  his  opportunities.  No  time  was  to  be  lost. 
Turning  round  with  a  cheer,  he  made  a  desperate 
plunge  at  the  water  and  went  much  farther  over 
than  he  had  intended,  insomuch  that  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  taken  a  "  header "  into  its  depths,  had 
not  McAllister  grasped  him  by  the  baggy  region  of 
his  trousers  and  gravel}"  lifted  him  into  his  mother's 
lap.  Next  moment  the  boat's  keel  grated  sharply 
on  the  gravel,  to  the  horror  of  Mrs.  Sudb^rry,  who, 
having  buried  her  face  in  the  bosom  of  her  saved 
son,  saw  not  what  had  occurred,  and  regarded  the 
Bhock  as  her  death-warrant. 

Thus  agreeably  the  picnic  continued  ! 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  81 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    PICNIC    CONCLUDED. 

WHAT  a  glorious  day  it  was,  and  what  spirits  it 
put  everybody  in  !  The  sun  shone  with  an  inten- 
sity almost  torrid ;  the  spot  on  which  they  had 
landed  was  green  and  bright,  like  a  slice  out  of 
the  realms  of  Fairy-land.  No  zephyr  dared  to  dis- 
turb the  leaves  or  the  glassy  water ;  great  clouds 
hung  in  the  bright  blue  sky  —  rotund,  fat,  and 
heavy,  like  mountains  of  wool  or  butter.  Every 
thing  in  nature  seemed  to  have  gone  to  sleep  at 
noon,  as  if  Spanish  principles  had  suddenly  im- 
bued the  universe. 

And  what  a  business  they  had,  to  be  sure,  with 
the  spreading  of  the  viands  and  the  kindling  of  the 
fire  !  The  latter  was  the  first  duty.  Hector  said 
he  would  undertake  it,  but  after  attempting  to  light 
it  with  damp  sticks  he  gave  it  up  and  assisted  the 
ladies  to  lay  the  cloth  on  the  grass.  Then  George 
and  Fred  got  the  fire  to  kindle,  and  Mr.  Sudberry, 
in  attempting  to  mend  it,  burnt  his  fingers  and  put 


82  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

it  out ;  whereupon  McAllister  came  to  his  rescue 
and  got  it  to  blaze  in  right  earnest.  Jacky  there- 
after tried  to  jump  over  it,  fell  into  it,  and  was 
saved  from  premature  destruction  by  being  plucked 
out  and  quenched  before  having  received  any  fur- 
ther damage  than  the  singeing  of  his  hair  and  eye- 
lashes. He  was  thus  rendered  a  little  more  hide- 
ous and  impish-like  than  Nature  had  intended  him 
to  be. 

Jacky  happened  to  be  particularly  bad  that  day. 
Not  only  was  he  more  bent  on  mis-chief  than  usual, 
but  Fortune  seemed  to  enhance  the  value  (so  to 
speak)  of  his  evil  doings,  by  connecting  them  with 
disasters  of  an  unexpected  nature.  He  tried  to 
leap  over  a  small  stream  (in  Scotland  styled  a 
burn),  and  fell  into  it.  This  necessitated  drying  at 
the  fire  —  a  slow  process  and  disagreeable  in  all 
circumstances,  but  especially  so  when  connected 
with  impatience  and  headstrong  obstinacy.  Then 
he  put  his  foot  on  a  plate  of  sandwiches,  and  was 
within  an  ace  of  sitting  down  on  a  jam  tart,  much 
to  his  own  consternation,  poor  boy,  for  had  he  de- 
stroyed that,  the  chief  source  of  his  own  prospect- 
ive felicity  would  have  been  dried  up. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  every  one  regard- 


Three  Months''  Rustication.  83 

ed  Jacky's  eccentricities  with  the  forgiving  and 
loving  spirit  of  his  mother.  Mr.  Sudberry,  good 
man,  did  not  mind  much ;  he  was  out  for  a  day's 
enjoyment,  and  having  armed  himself  cap-d-pie 
with  benevolence,  was  invulnerable.  Not  so  the 
other  members  of  the  party,  all  of  whom  had  to  ex- 
ercise a  good  deal  of  forbearance  towards  the  boy. 
McAllister  took  him  on  his  knee  and  gravely  be- 
gun to  entertain  him  with  a  story,  for  which  kind- 
ness Jacky  kicked  his  shins  and  struggled  to  get 
away  ;  so  the  worthy  man  smiled  sadly,  and  let 
him  go,  remarking  that  Ovid  himself  would  be 
puzzled  to  metamorphose  him  into  a  good  boy  — 
this  in  an  undertone,  of  course. 

Hector  Macdonald  was  somewhat  sanguine  and 
irascible  in  temper.  He  felt  a  tingling  in  his  fin- 
gers, and  an  irresistible  desire  to  apply  them  to 
the  ears  of  the  little  boy. 

"  Come  here,  Jacky ! "  said  he. 

Flora,  who  understood  his  feelings,  smiled  cov- 
ertly while  she  busied  herself  with  cups,  plates, 
and  pannikins.  Lucy,  who  did  not  understand  his 
feelings,  thought  "  he  must  be  a  good-natured 
fellow  to  speak  so  kindly  to  a  child  who  had  an- 
noyed him  very  much."  Lucy  did  not  admit  that 


34  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

she  herself  had  been  much  annoyed  by  her  little 
brother's  pertinacity  in  interrupting  conversation 
between  her  and  Hector,  although  she  might  have 
done  so  with  perfect  truth. 

Jacky  advanced  with  hesitation.  Hector  bent 
down  playfully  and  seized  him  by  both  arms,  turn- 
ing his  back  upon  the  party,  and  thus  bringing 
his  own  bulky  figure  between  them  and  young 
Hopeful. 

"  Jack,  I  want  you  to  be  good." 

"  I  won't ! "  promptly  said,  and  with  much  firm- 
ness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will !  "  A  stern  masculine  coun- 
tenance within  an  inch  of  his  nose,  and  a  vigorous 
little  shake,  somewhat  disconcerted  Jacky,  who 
exhibited  a  tendency  to  roar ;  but  Hector  closed 
his  strong  hands  on  the  little  arms  so  suddenly 
and  so  powerfully,  that,  being  unexpectedly  ago- 
nized, Jacky  was  for  a  moment  paralyzed.  The 
awful  glare  of  a  pair  of  bright  blue  eyes,  and  the 
glistening  of  a  double  row  of  white  teeth,  did  not 
tend  to  re-assure  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,  my  little  man ! "  repeat- 
ed Hector,  tumbling  him  over  on  his  back  with 
a  smile  of  ineffable  sweetness,  but  with  a  little 


Three  MontJis1  Rustication.  85 

touch  of  violence  that  seemed  inconsistent  there- 
with. 

Jacky  rose,  gasped,  and  ran  away,  glancing  ovei 
his  shoulder  with  a  look  of  alarm.  This  little 
piece  of  by-play  was  not  observed  by  any  one  but 
Flora,  who  exchanged  a  bright  glance  and  a  smile 
with  her  brother. 

The  imp  was  quelled  —  he  had  met  his  match  ! 
During  the  remainder  of  the  picnic  he  disturbed 
no  one,  but  kept  at  the  farthest  possible  distance 
from  Hector  that  was  consistent  with  being  one  of 
the  party.  But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  his 
nature  was  changed.  No  —  Jacky's  wickedness 
only  sought  a  new  channel  in  which  to  flow.  He 
consoled  himself  with  thoughts  of  the  dire  mis- 
chief he  would  perpetrate  when  the  dinner  was 
over.  Meanwhile,  he  sat  down  and  gloated  over 
the  jam  tart,  devouring  it  in  imagination. 

"  Is  that  water  boiling  yet  ? "  cried  Mr.  Sud- 
berry. 

"  Just  about  it.     Hand  me  the  eggs,  Fred." 

"Here  they  are,"  cried  Flora,  going  towards 
tl  e  fire  with  a  basket. 

She  looked  very  sweet  at  that  moment,  for  the 
active  operations  in  which  she  had  been  engaged 
had  flushed  her  cheeks  and  brightened  her  eyes. 


86  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

George  and  Fred  gazed  at  her  in  undisguised 
admiration.  Becoming  suddenly  aware  of  the  im- 
politeness of  the  act,  the  former  ran  to  relieve  her 
of  the  basket  of  eggs  ;  the  latter  blushed,  and  all 
but  upset  the  kettle  in  an  .effort  to  improve  the 
condition  of  the  fire. 

"  Fred,  you  goose,  leave  alone,  will  you  ?  "  roared 
George,  darting  forward  to  prevent  the  catas- 
trophe. 

"  This  is  really  charming,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  with  a  languid 
smile. 

"  Macdonald,  madam,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  cor- 
rect you,"  said  Hector,  with  a  smile  and  a  little 
bow. 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure  ! "  (with  an  attempt  at  a  laugh.) 
"  I  have  such  a  stupid  habit  of  misnaming  people." 

If  Mrs.  Sudberry  had  told  the  exact  truth  she 
would  have  said,  "  I  have  such  difficulty  in  remem- 
bering people's  names  that  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  call  people  by  any  name  that  comes  first 
into  my  head  rather  than  confess  my  forgetfulness." 
But  she  did  not  say  this ;  she  only  went  on  to  ob- 
serve that  she  had  no  idea  it  would  have  been  so 
charming. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  87 

"To  what  do  you  refer?"  said  Hector, —  "the 
scenery,  the  weather,  or  the  prospect  of  dinner  ?  " 

"  Oh !  you  shocking  man,  how  can  you  talk  of 
food  in  the  same  breath  with"  — 

"  The  salt !  "  exclaimed  Lucy  with  a  little  shriek. 

Was  there  ever  a  picnic  at  which  the  salt  was 
not  forgotten,  or  supposed  to  have  been  forgotten  ? 
Never ! 

Mr.  Sudberry's  cheerful  countenance  fell.  He 
had  never  eaten  an  egg  without  salt  in  his  life,  and 
did  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  doing  so. 
Every  one  ransacked  every  thing  in  anxious  haste. 
"  Here  it  is  !  "  (hope  revived.)  "  No,  it's  only  the 
pepper."  (Mitigated  despair  and  ransacking  con- 
tinued.) "  Maybe  it'll  be  in  this  parcel,"  suggested 
McAllister,  holding  up  one  which  had  not  yet  been 
untied.  "  Oh  !  bring  it  to  me,  Mr.  Macannister ! " 
cried  Mrs.  Stulberry  with  unwonted  energy,  for 
her  happiness  was  dependent  on  salt  that  day, 
coupled,  of  course,  with  weather  and  scenery. 
"  Faugh !  no,  it's  your  horrid  onions,  Mr.  MacAn- 
drews." 

"  Why,  you  have  forgotten  the  potato  salad,  Mr. 
Macdonald,"  exclaimed  Lucy. 

"  No,  I  have  not :  it  can  bo  made  in  five  minutes, 


88  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

but  not  without  salt.  Where  can  the  salt  be  ?  I 
am  ceitain  it  could  not  have  been  forgotten." 

The  only  individual  of  the  party  who  remained 
calmly  indifferent  was  Master  Jacky.  That  charm- 
ing creature,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  feed  on 
jam  tart,  did  not  feel  that  there  was  any  need  for 
salt.  An  attentive  observer  might  have  noticed, 
however,  that  Jacky's  look  of  supreme  indifference 
suddenly  gave  place  to  one  of  inexpressible  glee. 
He  became  actually  red  in  the  face  with  hugging 
himself  and  endeavoring  to  suppress  all  visible 
signs  of  emotion.  His  eye  had  unexpectedly  fallen 
on  the  paper  of  salt  which  lay  on  the  centre  of  the 
table-cloth,  so  completely  exposed  to  view  that  no- 
body saw  it ! 

"  Why,  here  it  is,  actually  before-  our  eyes ! " 
shouted  George,  seizing  the  paper  and  holding  it 
up. 

A  small  cheer  greeted  its  discovery.  A  groan 
instantly  followed,  as  George  spilt  the  whole  of  it. 
As  it  fell  on  the  cloth,  however,  it  was  soon  gath- 
ered up,  and  then  Mr.  Sudberry  ordered  every 
one  to  sit  down  on  the  grass  in  a  circle  round  the 
cloth. 

"  What  a  good  boy  Jacky  has  suddenly  become  !  " 
remarked  Lucy  in  some  surprise. 


Three  Mc.dhs'  Rustication.  89 

"  Darling !  "  ejaculated  his  mother. 

"  A  very  good  little  fellow,"  said  Flora,  with  a 
peculiar  smile. 

Jacky  said  nothing.  Hector's  eye  was  upon 
him,  as  was  his  upon  Hector.  Deep  unutterable 
thoughts  filled  his  swelling  heart,  but  he  spoke  not. 
He  merely  gazed  at  the  jam  tart,  a  large  portion 
of  which  was  in  a  few  minutes  supplied  to  him. 
The  immediate  result  was  crimson  hands,  arms,  and 
cheeks. 

While  Hector  was  engaged  in  concocting  the 
potato  salad  the  kettle  upset,  extinguished  the  fire, 
and  sent  up  a  loud  triumphant  hiss  of  steam 
mingled  with  ashes.  Fortunately  the  potatoes 
were  cooked,  so  the  dinner  was  at  last  begun  in 
comfort  —  that  is  to  say,  every  one  was  very  hot, 
very  much  exhausted  and  excited,  and  very  thirsty. 
Jacky  gorged  himself  with  tart  in  five  minutes, 
and  then  took  an  opportunity  of  quietly  retiring 
into  the  bushes,  sheltered  by  which  he  made  a  de- 
tour unseen  towards  the  place  where  the  boat  had 
been  left. 

Alas  for  the  picnic  party  that  day,  that  they  al- 
lowed Hector  to  prevail  on  them  to  begin  with  his 
potato  ealaa !  It  was  partly  composed  of  raw 


90  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

onions.  After  having  eaten  a  few  mouthfuls  of  it, 
their  sense  of  taste  was  utterly  destroyed !  The 
chickens  tasted  of  onions,  so  did  the  cheese  and 
the  bread.  Even  the  whiskey  was  flavored  with 
onions.  The  beefsteak-pie  might  as  well  have 
been  an  onion-pie  ;  indeed,  no  member  of  the  party 
could,  with  shut  eyes,  have  positively  said  that  it 
was  not.  The  potatoes  harmonized  with  the  pre- 
vailing flavor ;  not  so  the  ginger-bread,  however, 
nor  the  butter.  Every  thing  was  oniony ;  they  fin- 
ished their  repast  with  a  sweet  onion-tart !  To 
make  things  worse,  the  sky  soon  became  overcast, 
a  stiff  breeze  began  to  blow,  and  Mr.  McAllister 
"  opined  "  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  squall. 

A  piercing  shriek  put  an  abrupt  termination  to 
the  meal ! 

Intent  on  mischief,  the  imp  had  succeeded  in 
pushing  off  the  boat  and  clambering  into  it.  For 
some  time  he  rowed  about  in  a  circle  with  one  oar, 
much  delighted  with  his  performances.  But  when 
the  breeze  began  to  increase  and  blow  the  boat 
away  he  became  alarmed ;  and  when  the  oar  missed 
the  water  and  sent  him  sprawling  on  his  back,  he 
gave  utterance  to  the  shriek  above  referred  to. 
Luckily  the  wind  carried  him  past  the  place  where 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  91 

they  were  picnicing.  There  was  but  one  mode 
of  getting  at  the  boat.  It  was  at  once  adopted. 
Hector  threw  off  his  coat  and  vest  and  swam  out 
to  it! 

Ten  minutes  later,  they  were  rowing  at  full  speed 
for  the  foot  of  the  loch.  The  sky  was  dark  and  a 
squall  was  tearing  up  the  waters  of  the  lake. 
Then  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents.  Then  it  was 
discovered  that  the  cloaks  had  been  left  at  Hazle- 
wood  Creek,  as  the  place  where  they  had  dined  was 
named.  To  turn  back  was  impossible.  The  gen- 
tlemen's coats  were  therefore  put  on  the  ladies' 
shoulders.  All  were  soaked  to  the  skin  in  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour.  Jacky  was  quiet  —  being  slightly 
overawed,  but  not  humbled !  His  mother  was  too 
frightened  to  speak  or  scream.  Mr.  Sudberry 
rubbed  his  hands  and  said,  "  Come,  I  like  to  have 
a  touch  of  all  sorts  of  weather,  and  won't  we  have 
a  jolly  tea  and  a  rousing  fire  when  we  get  home  ?  " 
Mrs.  S.  sighed  at  the  word  "home."  McAllister 
volunteered  a  song,  and  struck  up  the  "  Callum's 
Lament,"  a  dismally  cheerful  Gaelic  ditty.  In  the 
midst  of  this  they  reached  the  landing-place,  from 
which  they  walked  through  drenched  heather  and 
blinding  rain  to  the  White  House. 

Thus,  drearily,  the  picnic  ended  I 


92  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CONCERNING    FOWLS   AND    POOLS. 

ONE  morning  the  Sudberry  Family  sat  on  the 
green  hill-side,  in  front  of  the  White  House,  en- 
gaged in  their  usual  morning  amusement  —  feed- 
ing the  cocks  and  hens. 

It  is  astonishing  what  an  amount  of  interest  may 
be  got  up  in  this  way !  If  one  goes  at  it  with  a 
sort  of  philanthropico-philosophical  spirit,  a  full 
hour  of  genuine  satisfaction  may  be  thus  obtained 
—  not  to  speak  of  the  joy  imparted  to  the  poultry, 
and  the  profound  glimpses  obtained  into  fowl  char- 
acter. 

There  were  about  twenty  hens,  more  or  less,  and 
two  cocks.  With  wonderful  sagacity  did  these 
creatures  come  to  perceive  that  when  the  Sud- 
berrys  brought  out  chairs  and  stools  after  break- 
fast, and  sat  down  thereon,  they,  the  fowls,  were  in 
for  a  feed !  And  it  was  surprising  the  punctuality 
with  which  they  assembled  each  fine  morning  for 
this  purpose. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  $3 

Most  of  the  family  simply  enjoyed  the  thing; 
but  Mr.  Sudberry,  in  addition  to  enjoying  it,  stud- 
ied it.  He  soon  came  to  perceive  that  the  cocks 
were  cowardly  wretches,  and  this  gave  him  occa- 
sion to  point  out  to  his  wife  the  confiding  character 
and  general  superiority  of  female  nature,  even  in 
hens.  The  two  large  cocks  could  not  be  prevailed 
on  to  feed  out  of  the  hand  by  any  means.  Under 
the  strong  influence  of  temptation  they  would  strut 
with  bold  aspect,  but  timid,  hesitating  step,  towards 
the  proffered  crumb,  but  the  slightest  motion  would 
scare  them  away ;  and  when  they  did  venture  to 
peck,  they  did  so  with  violent  haste,  and  instantly 
fled  in  abject  terror. 

It  was  this  tendency  in  these  ignoble  birds  that 
exasperated  poor  Jacky,  whose  chief  delight  was 
to  tempt  the  unfortunate  hens  to  place  unlimited 
confidence  in  him,  and  then  clutch  them  by  the 
beaks  or  heads  and  hold  them  wriggling  in  his 
cruel  grasp  ;  and  it  was  this  tendency  that  induced 
him,  in  the  heat  of  disappointment,  and  without 
any  reference  whatever  to  sex,  to  call  the  cocks 
"  big  hens ! " 

The  hen?,  on  the  other  hand,  exhibited  gentle 
and  trusting  natures.  Of  course  there  was  varie- 


94  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

ty  of  character  among  them,  as  there  is  among 
ladies ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  they  were  wont  to 
rush  towards  their  human  friends  in  a  body  and 
peck  the  crumbs  —  at  first  timidly,  then  boldly  — • 
from  their  palms.  There  was  one  hen  —  a  black 
and  ragged  one,  with  only  half  a  tail,  and  a  down- 
trodden aspect— which  actually  went  the  length 
of  jumping  up  on  little  Tilly's  knee  and  feeding 
out  of  her  lap.  It  even  allowed  her  to  stroke  its 
back,  but  it  evidently  permitted  rather  than  en- 
joyed the  process. 

On  the  morning  in  question,  the  black  hen  was 
bolder  than  usual ;  perhaps  it  had  not  breakfasted 
that  day,  for  it  was  foremost  in  the  rush  when  the 
family  appeared  with  chairs  and  stools,  and  leaped 
on  Tilly's  knee,  without  invitation,  as  soon  as  she 
was  seated;  whereupon  Tilly  called  it  "a  dear 
darling  pretty  'ittle  pet,"  and  patted  its  back. 

"Why,  the  creature  seems  quite  fond  of  you, 
my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Sudberry. 

"  So  it  is,  mamma.  It  loves  me,  I  know,  by  the 
way  it  looks  at  me  with  its  beautiful  black  eye. 
What  a  pity  the  other  is  not  so  nice  !  I  think  the 
poor  darling  must  be  blind  of  that  eye." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  that.     Blackie's  right 


Three  Months'  RusticaiioK.  95 

eye  was  blinder  than  any  bat's ;  it  was  an  opaque 
white  ball — a  circumstance  which  caused  it  no 
little  annoyance,  for  the  other  eye  had  to  do  duty 
for  both,  and  this  involved  constant  screwing  of 
the  head  about  and  unwearied  watchfulness.  It 
was  as  if  a  solitary  sentinel  were  placed  to  guard 
the  front  and  back  doors  of  a  house  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  Despite  Blackie's  utmost  care,  Jacky 
got  on  her  blind  side  more  than  once,  and  caught 
her  by  the  remnant  of  her  poor  tail.  This  used  to 
spoil  Tilly's  morning  amusement,  and  send  her  sor- 
rowful into  the  house.  But  what  did  that  matter 
to  Jacky  ?  He  sometimes  broke  out  worse  than 
usual,  and  set  the  whole  brood  into  an  agitated 
flutter,  which  rather  damaged  the  happiness  of  the 
family.  But  what  did  that  matter  to  Jacky  ? 

Oh !  he  was  a  "  darling  child,"  according  to  his 
mother  I 

For  some  time  the  feedhig  went  on  quietly 
enough.  The  fowls  were  confiding.  Mr.  Sudter- 
ry  was  becoming  immensely  philosophical;  Mrs. 
S.  was  looking  on  in  amiable  gratification  ;  George 
had  prevailed  on  a  small  white  hen  to  allow  him  to 
scratch  her  head;  Fred  was  taking  a  rapid  portrait 
of  the  smallest  cock ;  Lucy  had  drawn  the  largest 


96  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 

concourse  towards  herself  by  scattering  hei 
crumbs  on  the  ground ;  Jacky  had  only  caught 
two  chickens  by  their  beaks  and  one  hen  by  its 
tail,  arid  wis  partially  strangling  another,  and  the 
nine  McAllister  dogs  were  ranged  in  a  semicircle 
round  the  group,  looking  on  benignantly,  and  evi- 
dently inclined  to  put  in  for  a  share,  but  restrained 
by  the  memory  of  past  rebuffs — when  little 
Blackie,  standing  on  Tilly's  knee,  and  having 
eaten  a  large  share  of  what  was  going,  raised 
itself  to  its  full  height,  flapped  its  wings,  and  gave 
utterance  to  a  cackle  of  triumph !  A  burst  of 
laughter  followed  —  and  Tilly  gave  a  shriek  of  de- 
lighted surprise  that  at  once  dissolved  the  spell, 
and  induced  the  horrified  fowl  to  seek  refuge  in 
precipitate  flight. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mrs.  Sudberry,  "  that  re- 
minds me  that  this  would  be  a  most  charming  day 
for  your  excursion  over  the  mountains  to  that 
Lake  What-you-may-call-it." 

What  connection  there  was  between  the  little 
incident  just  described  and  the  excursion  to  Lake 
"What-you-may-call-it"  we  cannot  pretend  to  state; 
but  there  must  have  been  some  sort  of  connection 
in  Mrs.  Sudberry's  brain,  and  we  record  her  obser 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  97 

vation  because  it  was  the  origin  of  this  day's  pro- 
oeedings.  Mr.  S.  had,  for  some  time  past,  talked 
of  a  long  walking  excursion  with  the  whole  family 
to  a  certain  small  loch  or  tarn  among  the  hills. 
Mrs.  S.  had  made  up  her  mind,  —  first,  that  she 
would  not  go ;  and  second,  that  she  would  get 
every  one  else  to  go,  in  order  to  let  Mrs.  Brown  and 
Hobbs  have  a  thorough  cleaning-up  of  the  house. 
This  day  seemed  to  suit  for  the  excursion  —  hence 
her  propounding  of  the  plan.  Poor  delicate  Tilly 
seldom  went  on  long  expeditions,  —  she  was  often 
doomed  to  remain  at  home. 

Mr.  Sudberry  shouted  " Capital !  huzza!"  clapped 
his  hands,  and  rushed  into  the  house  to  prepare, 
scattering  the  fowls  like  chaff  in  a  whirlwind. 
Fired  by  his  example,  the  rest  of  the  family  fol- 
lowed. 

"  But  we  must  have  our  bath  first,  papa,"  cried 
Lucy. 

"  Certainly,  my  love,  there  will  be  time  for  that." 

So  away  flew  Lucy  to  the  nursery,  whence  she 
re-issued  with  Jacky,  Tilly,  Mrs.  Brown,  and  tow- 
els. 

The  bathing-pool  was  what  George  called  a 
h  great  institution."  In  using  this  slang  expres« 
r 


98  Freaks  on  the  Feds;  or, 

sion  George  was  literally  correct,  for  the  bathing, 
pool  was  not  a  natural  feature  of  the  scenery :  it 
was  artificial,  and  had  been  instituted  a  week  after 
the  arrival  of  the  family.  The  loch  was  a  little  too 
far  from  the  house  to  be  a  convenient  place  of  re. 
sort  for  ablutionary  purposes.  Close  beside  the 
house  ran  a  small  burn.  Its  birthplace  was  one  of 
those  dark  glens  or  "  corries "  situated  high  up 
among  those  mountains  that  formed  a  grand  tower- 
ing background  in  all  Fred's  sketches  of  the  White 
House.  Its  bed  was  rugged  and  broken  —  a  deep 
cutting,  which  the  water  had  made  on  the  hill-side. 
Here  was  quite  a  forest  of  dwarf-trees  and  shrubs ; 
but  so  small  were  they,  and  so  deep  the  torrent's 
bed,  that  you  could  barely  see  the  tree-tops  as  you 
approached  the  spot  over  the  bare  hills.  In  dry 
weather  this  burn  tinkled  over  a  chaos  of  rocks, 
forming  myriads  of  miniature  cascades  and  hosts 
of  limpid  little  pools.  During  heavy  rains  it  ran 
roaring  riotously  over  its  rough  bed  with  a  force 
that  swept  to  destruction  whatever  chanced  to 
come  in  its  way. 

In  this  burn,  screened  from  observation  by  an 
umbrageous  coppice,  was  the  bathing-pool.  No 
pool  in  the  stream  was  deep  enough,  in  ordinary 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  99 

weather,  to  take  Jacky  above  the  knees ;  but  oae 
pool  had  been  found,  about  two  hundred  yarda 
from  the  house,  which  was  large  enough,  if  it  had 
only  been  deeper.  To  deepen  it,  therefore,  they 
went  —  every  member  of  the  family. 

Lot  us  recall  the  picture :  —  Father,  in  shirt 
sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  shoulders,  and  trousers 
rolled  up  to  the  knees,  in  the  middle  of  the  pool, 
trying  to  upheave  from  the  bottom  a  rock  larger 
than  himself — if  he  only  knew  it !  But  he  doesn't, 
because  it  is  deeply  embedded,  therefore  he  toils 
on  in  hope.  George  building,  with  turf  and  stone, 
a  strong  embankment  with  a  narrow  outlet,  to 
allow  the  surplus  water  to  escape.  Fred,  Lucy, 
Tilly,  and  Peter  cutting  turf  and  carrying  stones. 
Mother  superintending  the  whole  and  making  re- 
marks. Jacky  making  himself  universally  disa- 
greeable, and  distracting  his  mother  in  a  miscella- 
neous sort  of  way. 

"  It's  as  good  as  Robinson  Crusoe  any  day ! " 
cries  father,  panting  and  wiping  his  bald  fore- 
head. "  What  a  stone !  I  can't  budge  it."  He 
stoops  again,  to  conquer,  if  possible ;  but  the 
great  difficulty  \fith  father  is,  that  the  water 
comes  so  near  to  his  tucked-up  trousers  that  he 


100  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

cannot  put  forth  his  full  strength  rvithout  wetting 
then;  and  mother  insists  that  this  must  not  be 
done.  "  Come,  George  and  Fred,  bring  the  pick- 
axe and  the  iron  lever,  we  must  have  this  fellow 
out;  he's  right  in  the  middle  of  the  pool.  Now, 
then,  heave ! " 

The  lads  obey,  and  father  straddles  so  fiercely 
that  one  leg  slips  down. 

"  Hah !  there,  you've  done  it  now ! "  from 
mother. 

"Well,  my  dear,  it  can't  be  helped,"  meekly, 
from  father,  who  is  secretly  glad,  and  prepares  to 
root  out  the  stone  like  a  Hercules.  Jacky  gets 
excited,  and  hopes  the  other  leg  will  slip  down 
and  get  wet  too !  "  Here,  hand  me  the  lever, 
George;  you  don't  put  enough  force  to  it." 
George  obeys  and  grins.  "Now  then,  once 
more,  with  will  —  ho  !  hi !  hup ! "  Father  strains 
at  the  lever,  which,  not  having  been  properly 
fixed,  slips,  and  he  finds  himself  suddenly  in  a 
sitting  posture,  with  the  water  round  his  waist. 
As  the  cool  element  embraces  his  loins,  he  "h  — 
ah  —  h ! "  gasps,  as  every  bather  knows  how ;  but 
the  shock  to  his  system  is  nothing  compared  with 
the  aggravation  to  his  feelings  \s  hen  he  hears  the 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  101 

joyful  yell  of  triumph  that  issues  from  the  brazen 
lungs  of  his  youngest  hope. 

"  Never  mind,  I'll  work  all  the  better  now  — 
come,  let  us  be  jolly,  and  clear  out  the  rest  of 
the  pool."  Good  man !  nothing  can  put  him  out. 
Gradually  the  bottom  is  cleared  of  stones  (except- 
ing the  big  one),  and  levelled,  and  the  embank- 
ment is  built  to  a  sufficient  height. 

"  Now  for  the  finishing  touch  ! "  cries  George ; 
"  bring  the  turf,  Fred  —  I'm  ready  ! "  The  water 
of  the  burn  is  rushing  violently  through  the  nar- 
row outlet  in  the  "dike."  A  heavy  stone  is 
dropped  into  the  gap,  and  turf  is  piled  on. 
"More  turf!  more  stones!  quick,  look  alive!  — 
it'll  burst  every  thing  —  there,  that's  it !  "  All 
hands  toil  and  work  at  the  opening,  to  smother 
it  up.  The  angry  element  leaks  through,  bursts, 
gushes  —  is  choked  back  with  a  ready  turf,  and 
squirts  up  in  their  faces.  Mother  is  stunned  to 
Bee  the  power  of  so  small  a  stream  when  the  at- 
tempt is  made  to  check  it  thoroughly ;  she  is  not 
mechanically-minded  by  nature,  and  has  learned 
nothing  in  that  way  by  education.  It  is  stopped 
at  last,  however. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  waters  from  above 


102  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

are  cut  off  from  those  below,  as  completely  as 
were  those  of  the  Jordan  in  days  of  old.  They 
all  stand  panting  and  silent,  watching  the  rising 
of  the  water,  while  George  keeps  a  sharp  eye  on 
the  dike  to  detect  and  repair  any  weakness.  At 
last  it  is  full,  and  the  surplus  runs  over  in  a 
pretty  cascade,  while  the  accommodating  stream 
piles  mud  and  stones  against  the  dike,  and  thus 
unwittingly  strengthens  the  barrier.  The  pool  is 
formed,  full  three  feet  deep  by  twenty  broad. 
Jacky  wants  to  bathe  at  once. 

"  But  the  pool  is  like  pea-soup,  my  pet  —  wait 
until  it  clears." 

"  I  won't  —  let  me  bathe  ! " 

"  0  Jacky,  my  darling ! " 

"I  will!  I  will!" 

He  does ;  for  in  his  struggles  he  slips  on  the 
bank,  goes  in  head  foremost,  and  is  fished  out  in 
a  disgusting  condition ! 

So  the  bathing-pool  was  made.  It  was  un- 
doubtedly a  "  great  institution ; "  they  did  not 
know  at  the  time,  that,  like  many  such  institu- 
tions, it  was  liable  to  destruction  j  but  they  lived 
to  see  it. 

Meanwhile,  to  return  from  this  long  digression, 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  103 

Lucy,  Tilly,  and  Jacky  bathed,  while  Mrs.  Brown 
watched  and  scolded.  This  duty  performed,  they 
returned  to  the  house,  where  they  found  the  re- 
mainder of  the  party  ready  for  a  journey  on  foot 
to  Lake  "  What-you-may-call-it,"  which  lake  Lucy 
named  the  Lake  of  the  Clouds,  its  Gaelic  cognomen 
being  quite  unpronounceable. 


104  Frealcs  on  the  Fells;  or, 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  GRAND  EXCURSION  OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

LITTLE  did  good  Mr.  Sudberry  think  what  an  ox- 
cursion  lay  before  him  that  day,  when,  in  the  pride 
of  untried  strength  and  unconquerable  spirits,  he 
strode  up  the  mountain-side,  with  his  dutiful  family 
following  like  a  "  tail "  behind  him.  There  was  a 
kind  of  narrow  sheep-path,  up  which  they  marched 
in  single  file.  Father  first,  Lucy  next,  with  her 
gown  prettily  tucked  up ;  George  and  Fred  follow- 
ing, with  large  fishing-baskets  stuifed  with  edibles ; 
Jacky  next,  light  and  active,  but  as  yet  quiescent ; 
timorous  Peter  bringing  up  the  rear.  He,  also,  was 
laden,  but  not  heavily.  Mr.  Sudberry  carried  rod 
and  basket,  for  he  had  been  told  that  there  were 
large  trout  in  the  Lake  of  the  Clouds. 

Ever  and  anon  the  party  halted  and  turned  round 
to  wave  hats  and  kerchiefs  to  Mrs.  Sudberry,  Tilly, 
and  Mrs.  Brown,  who  returned  the  salute  with  in- 
terest, until  the  White  House  appeared  a  mere 
Bpeck  in  the  valley  below,  and  Mrs.  Brown  became 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  105 

BO  small,  that  Jacky,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  re- 
garded her  as  a  contemptible  little  thing  !  At  last 
a  shoulder  of  the  hill  shut  out  the  view  of  the  val- 
ley, and  they  began  to  feel  that  they  were  in  a 
deep  solitude,  surrounded  by  wild  mountain  peaks. 

It  is  a  fact,  that  there  is  something  peculiarly  in- 
vigorating in  mountain  air.  What  that  something 
is  we  are  not  prepared  to  say.  Oxygen  and  ozone 
have  undoubtedly  something  to  do  with  it,  but  in 
what  proportions  we  know  not.  Scientific  men 
could  give  us  a  learned  disquisition  on  the  subject, 
no  doubt ;  we  therefore  refer  our  readers  to  scien- 
tific men,  and  confine  our  observations  to  the  sim- 
ple statement  of  the  fact,  that  there  is  something 
extremely  invigorating  in  mountain  air.  Every 
mountaineer  knows  it;  Mr.  Sudberry  and  family 
proved  it  that  day  beyond  dispute,  excepting,  by 
the  way,  poor  Peter,  whose  unfortunate  body  was 
not  adapted  for  rude  contact  with  the  rough  ele- 
ments of  this  world. 

The  whole  party  panted  and  became  very  warm 
as  they  toiled  upwards;  but,  instead  of  growing 
fatigued,  they  seemed  to  gather  fresh  strength  and 
additional  spirit  at  every  step  —  always  except- 
ing Peter,  of  course.  Soon  a  wild  spirit  came  over 


106  Freaks  on  the  Felts;  or, 

them.  Oil  gaining  a  level  patch  of  springy  turf, 
father  gave  a  cheer,  and  rushed  madly,  he  knew 
not,  and  cared  not,  whither.  Sous  and  daughters 
echoed  the  cheer,  and  followed  his  example.  The 
sun  burst  forth  at  the  moment,  crisping  the  peaks, 
gorges,  and  clouds  —  which  were  all  mingled  to- 
gether—  with  golden  fires.  Each  had  started  off 
without  definite  intention,  and  they  were  scattered 
far  and  wide  in  five  minutes,  but  each  formed  the 
natural  resolve  to  run  to  the  nearest  summit,  in  or- 
der to  devour  more  easily  the  view.  Thus  they  all 
converged  again  and  met  on  a  neighboring  knoll 
that  overtopped  a  terrific  precipice  which  over- 
hung a  small  lake. 

"  The  —  Lake  —  of  the  —  Clouds  !  "  exclaimed 
Lucy,  as  she  came  up,  breathless  and  beaming. 

"  Impossible  1 "  cried  her  father ;  "  McAllister 
Bays  it  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  and  we're 
not  near  the  top  yet.  Where  are  Peter  and 
Jacky?" 

"  I  cannot  see  them  1 "  said  George  and  Fred,  in 
a  breath. 

"  No  more  can  I,"  cried  Lucy. 

No  more  could  anybody,  except  a  hunter  or  an 
jagle,  for  they  were  seated  quietly  among  gray 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  107 

rocks  and  brown  ferns,  which  blended  with  their 
costume  so  as  to  render  them  all  but  invisible. 

The  party  on  the  knoll  were,  however,  the  re- 
verse of  invisible  to  Jacky  and  his  exhausted 
companion.  They  stood  out,  black  as  ink,  against 
the  bright  blue  sky,  and  were  so  sharply  defined 
that  Jacky  declared  he  could  see  the  "  turn-up  of 
Lucy's  nose." 

The  reader  must  not  suppose  that  Master  Jacky 
was  exhausted,  like  his  slender  companion.  A 
glance  at  his  firm  lip,  flushed  cheek,  sturdy  little 
limbs,  and  bright  eyes,  would  have  made  that 
abundantly  plain.  No,  Jacky  was  in  a  peculiar 
frame  of  mind  —  that  was  all.  He  chose  to  sit  be- 
side Peter,  and,  as  he  never  condescended  to  give  a 
reason  for  his  choice,  we  cannot  state  one.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  meditatively  inclined  that  day.  Per- 
haps  he  was  engaged  in  the  concoction  of  some  ex- 
cruciating piece  of  wickedness  —  who  knows  ? 

Suddenly  Jacky  turned  with  a  look  of  earnest 
gravity  towards  his  companion,  who  was  a  woe- 
begone spectacle  of  exhaustion.  "  I  say,  we'd  bet- 
ter go  on,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

Peter  looked  up  languidly,  sighed  heavily,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  fishing-basket  full  of  sand- 


108  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

wiches,  which  constituted  his  burden.  It  waa 
small  and  light,  but  to  the  poor  boy  it  felt  like  a 
ton.  Jacky's  eyes  became  still  more  owlishly  wide, 
and  his  face  graver  than  ever.  He  had  never  seen 
him  in  this  condition  before  —  indeed,  Jacky's  ex- 
perience of  life  beyond  the  nursery  being  limited, 
he  had  never  seen  any  one  in  such  a  case  before. 

"  I  say,  Peter,  are  you  desprit  blow'd  ?  " 

"  Desprit,"  sighed  Peter. 

Jacky  paused  and  gazed  at  his  companion  for 
nearly  a  minute. 

"  I  say,  d'ye  think  you  could  walk  if  you  tried?" 

"  Oh,  yes  1 "  (with  a  groan  and  a  smile  ; )  "  come, 
I'll  try  to  push  ahead  now." 

"  Here,  give  me  the  basket,"  cried  Jacky,  start- 
ing up  with  sudden  and  tremendous  energy,  and 
wrenching  the  basket  out  of  Peter's  hand.  He  did 
it  with  ease,  although  the  small  clerk  was  twice 
the  size  of  the  imp. 

Peter  remonstrated,  but  in  vain.  Mrs.  Brown,  a 
woman  of  powerful  frame  and  strong  mind,  could 
not  turn  Jacky  from  his  purpose  —  it  was  not  like- 
ly, therefore,  that  an  amiable  milk-and-water  boy, 
in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  could  do  it.  Jacky  swung 
the  basket  over  his  shoulder  with  an  amount  of 


Three  Months'  Rustication*  109 

exertion  that  made  him  stagger,  and,  commanding 
Peter  to  follow,  marched  up  the  hill  with  com- 
pressed lips  and  knitted  brows. 

It  was  an  epoch  in  the  mental  development  of ' 
Jacky  —  it  was  a  new  sensation  to  the  child. 
Hitherto  he  had  known  nothing  but  the  feeling  of 
dependence.  Up  to  this  point  he  had  been  com- 
pelled by  the  force  of  circumstances  to  look  up  to 
every  one  —  and,  alas  !  he  had  done  so  with  a  very 
bad  grace.  He  had  never  known  what  it  was  to 
help  any  one.  His  mother  had  thoroughly  spoiled 
him.  Strange  infatuation  in  the  mother !  She  had 
often  blamed  the  boy  for  spoiling  his  toys ;  but  she 
had  never  blamed  herself  for  spoiling  the  boy  ! 
"  Darling  Jacky !  don't  ask  the  child  to  do  any  thing 
for  you  —  he's  too  young  yet."  So  Jacky  was 
never  asked  to  help  any  one  in  any  way,  except  by 
Mrs.  Brown,  who  did  not  "  ask,"  but  commanded, 
and,  although  she  never  rewarded  obedience  with 
the  laurel,  either  literally  or  figuratively,  she  in- 
variably punished  disobedience  with  the  palm. 
Little  Tilly  always  did  every  thing  she  wanted 
done  herself,  and  could  never  do  enough  for  Jacky, 
so  that  she  afforded  no  opportunity  for  her  brother 
to  exercise  amiable  qualities.  Thus  was  Jacky 


110  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

trained  to  be  a  selfish  little  imp,  and  to  this  train, 
ing  he  superadded  the  natural  wickedness  of  his 
own  little  heart.  But  now,  for  the  first  time,  the 
tables  were  turned.  Jacky  felt  that  Peter  was  de- 
pendent on  him — that  he  could  not  get  on  without 
him.  "Poor  Peter,  I'll  help  him  —  he's  a  weak 
skinny  chap,  and  I'm  strong  as  a  lion  —  as  a  ele- 
phant —  as  a  crokindile  —  any  thing  !  Come  on, 
Peter,  are  you  getting  better  now  ?  "  Thus  they 
went  up  the  hill  together. 

"  Ha !  there  they  are  at  last,  close  under  this 
mound.  Why,  I  do  believe  that  Jacky 's  carrying 
the  basket ! " 

Mr.  Sudberry  was  bereft  of  breath  at  this  dis- 
covery; so  was  every  one  else.  When  the  boy 
stumped  up  the  hill  and  flung  down  the  basket 
with  an  emphatic  "  there  I "  his  father  turned  to  the 
small  clerk  — 

"  How  now,  sir,  did  you  bid  Jacky  carry  that  ?  " 

"Please,  sir  —  no,  sir;"  (whimpering)  "but 
Master  Jacky  forced  it  out  of  my  hand,  sir,  and 
insisted  on  carrying  it.  He  saw  that  I  was  very 
tired,  sir  —  and  so  I  am,  but  I  would  not  have 
asked  him  to  carry  it,  if  I  had  been  ever  so  tired 
—  indeed  I  would  not,  sir." 


Three  Months'  Rmticatio.i.  Ill 

"I'm  not  displeased,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Sud- 
berry,  kindly,  patting  him  on  the  head ;  "  I  only 
wanted  to  know  if  he  offered" 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  cried  the  imp,  stoutly,  with 
his  arms  akimbo  —  "  and  why  not?  Don't  you  see 
that  the  poor  boy  is  dead  beat ;  and  was  I  goin' 
to  stand  by  and  see  him  faint  by  his-self,  ah1  alone 
on  the  mountain  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not ! "  and  Mr.  Sudberry  seized 
Jacky  and  whirled  him  round  till  he  was  quite 
giddy,  and  fell  on  the  heather  with  a  cheer,  and 
declared  that  he  would  not  budge  from  that  spot 
until  they  had  lunched.  Need  we  say  that  Mr. 
Sudberry  himself  was  the  subject  of  a  new  sensa- 
tion that  day,  — a  sensation  of  a  peculiarly  hopeful- 
nature,  —  as  he  gazed  at  his  youngest  son ;  while 
that  refined  little  creature  crammed  himself  with 
sandwiches  and  gingerbread,  and  besmeared  his 
hands  and  visage  with  a  pot  of  jam,  that  had  been 
packed  away  by  his  mother  for  her  own  darling's 
special  use  ? 

"  My  poor  lad,  you  must  not  come  any  farther 
with  us.  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  much  fatigued. 
Remain  here  by  the  provisions,  and  rest  in  the  sun. 
shine  till  we  return." 


112  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

So  Mr.  Sudberry  gave  Peter  a  plaid  that  had 
been  carried  up  to  serve  as  a  table-cloth,  and  told 
him  to  wrap  well  up  in  it,  lest  he  should  catch  cold, 
They  left  him  there  on  the  knoll,  refreshed  and 
happy,  and  with  a  new  feeling  in  his  breast  in 
regard  to  Jacky,  whom,  up  to  that  day,  he  had 
regarded  as  an  imp  of  the  most  hopelessly  incorri- 
gible description. 

"  Over  the  mountain  and  over  the  moor "  the 
Sudberrys  wandered.  The  ridge  was  gained,  and 
a  new  world  of  mountains,  glens,  gorges,  and  peaks 
was  discovered  on  the  other  side  of  it,  with  the 
Lake  of  the  Clouds  lying,  like  a  bright  diamond, 
far  below  them.  They  descended  into  this  new 
world  with  a  cheer.  A  laugh  or  a  cheer  was  their 
chief  method  of  conversation  now  —  their  spirits 
as  well  as  their  bodies  being  so  high.  "  Not 
a  house  to  be  seen !  not  a  sign  of  man  !  the  un- 
trodden wilderness  ! "  cried  Mr.  Sudberry.  "  Rob- 
inson Crusoe  !  Mungo  Park  !  Pooh ! "  shouted 
George.  "  Hooray  ! "  yelled  Jacky.  The  whole 
party  laughed  again,  and  down  the  slope  they 
went,  at  such  a  pace  that  it  was  a  miracle  they 
did  not  terminate  their  career  in  the  lake  with  the 
poetic  name. 


Three  Hontlis'  Rustication.  113 

At  this  point  every  one  was  suddenly  "  seized." 
Mr.  S.  and  George  were  seized  with  an  irresistible 
desire  to  fish  ;  Fred  was  seized  with  a  burning  de- 
sire to  sketch ;  Lucy  was  seized  with  a  passionate 
desire  to  gather  wild  flowers  :  and  Jacky  was 
seized  with  a  furious  desire  to  wet  himself  and 
ivade  with  his  shoes  on.  He  did  it  too,  and,  in  the 
course  of  an  hour,  tumbled  into  so  many  peat-bogs, 
and  besmeared  himself  with  so  much  coffee-colored 
mud,  that  his  own  mother  would  have  failed  to 
recognize  him.  He  was  supremely  happy  —  so 
was  his  father.  At  the  very  first  cast  he  (the 
father)  hooked  a  trout  of  half  a  pound  weight,  and 
lost  it,  too  !  but  that  was  nothing.  The  next  cast 
he  caught  one  of  nearly  a  pound.  George  was 
equally  successful.  Fortune  smiled.  Before  even- 
ing began  to  close,  both  baskets  were  half  full  of 
splendid  trout ;  Lucy's  basket  was  quite  full  of 
botanical  specimens ;  Fred's  sketch  was  a  success, 
and  Jacky  was  as  brown  as  a  Hottentot  from  head 
to  foot.  They  prepared  to  return  home,  rejoicing. 

Haste  was  needful  now.  A  short  cut  round  the 
shoulder  of  the  ridge  was  recommended  by  George, 
and  taken.  It  conducted  them  into  a  totally  differ- 
ent gap  from  the  one  which  led  to  their  own  val- 


114  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

ley.  If  followed  out,  this  route  would  have  led 
them  to  a  spot  ten  miles  distant  from  their  High- 
land home ;  but  they  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of 
the  fact.  All  gaps  and  gorges  looked  much  the 
same  to  them.  Suddenly  Mr.  Sudberry  paused: — 

"  Is  this  the  way  we  came  ?  " 

Grave  looks,  but  no  reply. 

"  Let  us  ascend  this  ridge,  and  make  sure  that 
we  are  right." 

They  did  so,  and  made  perfectly  certain  that 
they  were  wrong.  Attempting  to  correct  their 
mistake,  they  wandered  more  hopelessly  out  of 
their  way,  but  it  was  not  until  the  shades  of  night 
began  to  fall  that  Mr.  Sudberry,  with  a  cold  per- 
spiration on  his  brow,  expressed  his  serious  be- 
lief that  they  were  "  lost  1 w 


Three  AfonfJis'  Rustication*  115 


CHAPTER    X. 

LOST   ON  THE   MOUNTAINS. 

DID  evt  r  the  worthy  London  merchant,  in  the 
course  of  his  life,  approach  to  the  verge  of  the 
region  of  despair,  it  was  on  that  eventful  night 
when  he  found  himself  and  his  family  lost  among 
the  mountains  of  Scotland. 

"  It's  dreadful,"  said  he,  sitting  down  on  a  cold 
gray  rock,  and  beginning  slowly  to  realize  the 
utter  hopelessness  of  their  condition.  "  My  poor 
Lucy,  don't  be  cast  down"  (drawing  her  to  his 
breast) ;  "  after  all,  it  will  only  be  a  night  of  wan- 
dering. But  we  must  keep  moving.  We  dare  not 
venture  to  lie  down  in  our  wet  clothes.  "We  must 
not  even  rest  long  at  a  time,  lest  a  chill  should 
come  upon  you." 

"But  I'm  quite  warm,  papa,  and  only  a  very 
little  tired.  I  could  walk  for  miles  yet."  She  said 
this  cheerily,  but  she  could  not  help  looking  anx- 
ous.  The  night  was  so  dark,  however,  that  no  one 
could  see  her  looks. 


116  Fr edits  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Do  let  me  go  off  alone,  fattier,''  urged  George ; 
"  I  am  as  1'resb  as  possible,  and  could  run  over  the 
hills  until  I  should  fall  in  with"  — 

"  Don't  mention  it,  George  ;  I  feel  that  our  only 
hope  is  to  keep  together.  Poor  Peter !  what  will 
become  of  that  boy  ?  " 

Mr.  Sudberry  became  almost  desperate  as  he 
thought  of  the  small  clerk.  He  started  up.  "  Come, 
we  must  keep  moving.  You  are  not  cold,  dear? 
are  you  sure  you  are  not  cold  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,  papa ;  why  are  you  so  anxious  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  a  flask  of  brandy,  which  I  mean 
to  delay  using  until  we  break  down  and  cannot  get 
on  without  it.  Whenever  you  begin  to  get  chilled 
I  must  give  you  brandy.  Not  till  then,  however ; 
spirits  are  hurtful  when  there  is  hard  toil  before 
you,  but  when  you  break  down  there  is  no  resource 
left.  Rest,  food,  sleep,  would  be  better ;  but  these 
we  have  no  chance  of  getting  to-night.  Poor  Jacky ! 
does  he  keep  warm,  George  ?  " 

"No  fear  of  him,"  cried  George,  with  forced 
gayety.  "  He's  all  right." 

Jack  had  broken  down  completely  soon  after 
nightfall.  V:gorously,  manfully  had  he  struggled 
to  keep  up;  but  when  his  usual  hour  for  going 


Three  MontM  Rustication.  117 

to  bed  arrived,  nature  refused  to  sustain  him. 
He  sank  to  the  ground,  and  then  George  wrapped 
him  up  in  his  shooting-coat,  in  which  he  now  lay, 
sound  asleep,  like  a  dirty  brown  bundle,  on  his 
brothers  shoulders. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Fred,  after  they  had 
walked,  or  rather  stumbled,  on  for  some  time  in 
silence.  "Suppose  you  all  wait  here  for  ten  minutes 
while  I  run  like  a  greyhound  to  the  nearest  height 
and  see  if  any  thing  is  to  be  seen.  Mamma  musi 
have  alarmed  the  whole  neighborhood  by  this  time  ; 
and  if  they  are  looking  for  us,  they  will  be  sure  to 
have  lanterns  or  torches." 

"A  good  idea,  my  boy.  Go,  and  pause  every 
few  minutes  to  shout,  so  that  we  may  not  lose  you. 
Keep  shouting,  Fred,  and  we  will  wait  here  and 
reply." 

Fred  was  off  in  a  moment,  and  before  he  had  got 
fifty  yards  away  was  floundering  knee-deep  in  a 
peat-bog.  So  much  for  reckless  haste,  thought  he, 
as  he  got  out  of  the  bog  and  ran  forward  with  much 
more  caution.  Soon  those  waiting  below  heard  his 
clear  voice  far  up  the  heights.  A  few  minutes 
more,  and  it  rang  forth  again  more  faintly.  Mr. 
Sudberry  remarked  that  it  sounded  as  if  it  came 


118  Frealts  on  the  Fdls;  or, 

from  the  clouds:  he  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth 
Bailor  fashion,  and  replied.  Then  they  listened  in- 
tently for  the  next  shout.  How  still  it  was  while 
they  sat  there  !  What  a  grand,  gloomy  solitude ! 
They  could  hear  no  sound  but  the  beating  of  their 
own  hearts.  Solemn  thoughts  of  the  Creator  of 
these  mighty  hills  crept  into  their  minds  as  they 
gazed  around  and  endeavored  to  pierce  the  thick 
darkness.  But  this  was  impossible.  It  was  one  of 
those  nights  in  which  the  darkness  was  so  profound 
that  no  object  could  be  seen  even  indistinctly  at 
the  distance  of  ten  yards.  Each  could  see  the 
other's  form  like  a  black  marble  statue,  but  no  fea- 
ture could  be  -traced.  The  mountain  peaks  and 
ridges  could  indeed  be  seen  against  the  dark  sky, 
like  somewhat  deeper  shadows ;  but  the  crags  and 
corries,  the  scattered  rocks  and  heathery  knolls,  the 
peat-bogs  and  the  tarns  of  the  wild  scene  which 
these  circling  peaks  enclosed  —  all  were  steeped 
in  impenetrable  gloom.  There  seemed  something 
terrible,  almost  unnatural,  in  this  union  of  thick 
darkness  with  profound  silence.  Mr.  Sudberry  was 
startled  by  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  when  he 
again  spoke. 

"The  boy  must  have  gone  too  for.     I  cannot 
hear " — 


Three  MoniUs1  Rustication.  119 

"Hush!" 

"  Hi ! "  in  the  far  distance,  lika  a  faint  echo. 
They  all  breathed  more  freely,  and  Mr.  Sudberry 
uttered  a  powerful  response.  Presently  the  shout 
came  nearer — nearer  still;  and  soon  Fred  rejoined 
them,  with  the  disheartening  information  that  he 
had  gained  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  and  could  see 
nothing  whatever ! 

"  Well,  my  children,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry,  with  an 
assumption  of  cheerfulness  which  he  was  far  from 
feeling,  "  nothing  now  remains  but  to  push  straight 
forward  as  fast  as  we  can.  We  must  come  to  a  road 
of  some  sort  in  the  long-run,  which  will  conduct  to 
somewhere  or  other,  no  doubt.  Come,  cheer  up ; 
forward  !  Follow  close  behind  me,  Lucy.  George, 
do  you  take  the  lead  —  you  are  the  most  active  and 
sharpsighted  among  us ;  and  mind  the  bogs." 

"  What  if  we  walk  right  over  a  precipice ! " 
thought  Fred.  He  had  almost  said  it,  but  checked 
himself  for  fear  of  alarming  the  rest  unnecessarily. 
Instead  of  cautioning  George,  he  quietly  glided  to 
the  front,  and  took  the  lead. 

Slowly,  wearily,  and  painfully  they  plodded  on, 
stumbling  at  times  over  a  rugged  and  stone-covered 
surface,  sometimes  descending  a  broken  slope  that 


120  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

grew  more  and  more  precipitous  until  it  became 
dangerous,  and  then,  fearing  to  go  farther  —  not 
knowing  what  lay  before  —  they  had  to  retrace 
their  steps  and  search  for  a  more  gradual  descent. 
Now  crossing  a  level  patch  that  raised  their  hopes, 
inclining  them  to  believe  that  they  had  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  valley ;  anon  coming  suddenly 
upon  a  steep  ascent  that  dashed  their  hopes,  and 
induced  them  to  suppose  they  had  turned  in  the 
wrong  direction,  and  were  re-ascending  instead  of 
descending  the  mountain.  All  the  time  Jacky 
slept  like  a  top,  and  George,  being  a  sturdy  fellow, 
carried  him  without  a  murmur.  Several  times 
Fred  tried  to  make  him  give  up  his  burden,  but 
George  was  inexorably  obstinate.  So  they  plod- 
ded on  till  nearly  midnight. 

"Is  that  a  house?"  said  Fred,  stopping  short, 
and  pointing  to  a  dark  object  just  in  front  of  them. 
"No,  it's  a  lake." — "Nonsense,  it's  a  mountain." 
A  few  more  steps,  and  Fred  recoiled  with  a  cry  of 
horror.  It  was  a  precipice  full  a  hundred  feet 
deep  —  the  dark  abyss  of  which  had  assumed  such 
varied  aspects  in  their  eyes  ! 

A  long  detour  followed,  and  they  .reached  the 
foot  m  safety.  Here  the  land  became  boggy. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  121 

Each  step  was  an  act  fraught  with  danger,  anxiety, 
and  calculation.  Whether  they  should  stap  knee- 
deep  into  a  hole  full  of  water,  or  trip  over  a 
rounded  mass  of  solid  turf,  was  a  matter  of  abso- 
lute uncertainty  until  the  step  was  taken. 

"Oh  that  we  had  only  a  gleam  of  moonshine," 
said  Lucy  with  a  sigh.  Moonshine  !  How  often 
had  George  in  the  course  of  his  life  talked  with 
levity,  almost  amounting  to  contempt,  of  things 
being  "  all  a  matter  of  moonshine  "  !  What  would 
he  not  have  given  to  have  had  only  a  tithe  of  the 
things  which  surrounded  him  at  that  time  con 
verted  into  "  moonshine  "  ! 

A  feeble  cheer  from  Fred  caused  an  abrupt  halt 
"  What  is  it  ?  "  —  "  Hallo  ! "— "  What  now  ?  " 
"  The   lake  at  last !  —  Our  own  loch !     I  know 
the  shape  of  it  well !     Hurrah  1 " 

Every  one  was  overjoyed.  They  all  gazed  at  it 
long  and  earnestly,  and  unitedly  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  was  the  loch  —  probably  at  the  dis- 
tance of  a  mile  or  so.  Pushing  forward  with  re- 
vived spirits,  they  came  upon  the  object  of  their 
hopes  much  sooner  than  had  been  anticipated.  In 
fact,  it  was  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant. A  wild  yell  of  laughter  mingled  with  despair 


122  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

burst  from  Fred  as  the  lake  galloped  aw£.y  in  the 
shape  of  a  wKde  horse  1  The  untravelled  reader 
may  possibly  doubt  this.  Yet  it  is  a  fact  that  a 
white  horse  was  thus  mistaken  for  a  distant 
lake ! 

The  revulsion  of  feeling  was  tremendous.  Every 
one  sighed,  and  Mr.  Sudberry  groaned,  for  at  that 
moment  the  thought  of  poor  Peter  recurred  to 
his  mind.  Yet  there  remained  a  strange  feeling  of 
kindliness  in  the  breast  of  each  towards  that  white 
horse.  It  was  an  undeniable  proof  of  the  exist- 
ence of  animal  life  in  those  wild  regions,  a  fact 
which  the  deep  solitude  of  all  around  had  tempted 
them  madly  to  doubt  —  unknown  even  to  them- 
selves. Besides,  it  suggested  the  idea  of  an  owner 
to  the  horse ;  and  by  a  natural  and  easy  process  of 
reasoning  they  concluded  that  the  owner  must  be 
a  human  being,  and  that,  when  at  home,  he  proba- 
bly dwelt  in  a  house.  What  more  probable  than 
that  the  house  was  even  then  within  hail? 

Acting  on  the  idea,  Mr.  Sudberry  shouted  for 
two  minutes  with  all  his  might,  the  only  result  of 
which  was  to  render  himself  extremely  hoarse, 
Then  George  tried  it,  and  so  did  Fred,  and  Jacky 
awoke  and  began  to  whimper  and  to  ask  to  be  let 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  123 

alone.  He  also  kicked  a  little,  but,  being  very 
tired,  soon  fell  asleep  again.  "You  must  let  me 
carry  him  now ! "  said  Fred.  "  I  won't ! "  Fred 
tried  force,  but  George  was  too  strong  for  him ;  so 
they  went  on  as  before,  Lucy  leaning  somewhat 
heavily  on  her  father's  arm. 

Presently  they  heard  the  sound  of  water.  It 
filled  them  with  mitigated  joy  and  excitement,  on 
the  simple  principle  that  any  thing  in  the  shape  of 
variety  was  better  than  nothing.  A  clap  of  thunder 
would  have  raised  in  their  depressed  bosoms  a 
gleam  of  hope.  A  flash  of  lightning  would  have 
been  a  positive  blessing.  Mr.  Sudberry  at  once 
suggested  that  it  must  be  a  stream,  and  that  they 
could  follow  its  course  —  wade  down  its  bed,  if 
necessary  —  till  they  should  arrive  at "  something! " 
Foolish  man!  he  had  been  long  enough  in  the 
Highlands  by  that  time  to  have  known  that  to  walk 
down  the  bed  of  a  mountain-burn  was  about  as 
possible  as  to  walk  down  the  shaft  of  a  coal-mine. 
They  came  to  the  edge  of  its  banks,  however,  and, 
looking  over,  tried  to  pierce  its  gloom.  There  was 
a  pale  gleam  of  white  foam  —  a  rumbling,  rustling 
sound  beneath,  and  a  sensation  of  moisture  in  the 
atmosphere.  "  It  rains  ! "  said  Mr.  Sudberry.  *'  I 


124  Freaks  on  tfie  Fells;  or, 

rather  think  it's  the  spray  of  a  fall!"   observed 
George. 

Had  Mr.  Sudberry  known  the  depth  of  the  tre- 
mendous gulf  into  which  he  was  peering,  and  the 
steep  cliff  on  the  edge  of  which  he  stood,  he  would 
have  sprung  back  in  alarm.  But  he  did  not  know 
—  he  did  not  entertain  the  faintest  idea  of  the  truth 
so  he  boldly,  though  cautiously,  began  to  clamber 
down,  assisting  Lucy  to  descend. 

Man  (including  woman)  knows  not  what  he  can 
accomplish  until  he  tries.  Millions  of  glittering 
gold  would  not  have  induced  any  member  of  that 
party  to  descend  such  a  place  in  the  dark,  had  they 
known  what  it  was — yet  they  accomplished  it  in 
safety.  Down,  down  they  went !  "  Dear  me,  when 
shall  we  reach  the  foot  ?  We  must  be  near  it  now." 
No,  they  were  not  near  it ;  still  down  they  went, 
becoming  more  and  more  alarmed,  yet  always 
tempted  on  by  the  feeling  that  each  step  would 
bring  them  to  the  bottom.  "  What  a  noise  the 
stream  makes  !  why,  it  must  be  a  river ! "  No,  it 
was  not  a  river  —  it  was  a  mere  burn ;  quite  a  little 
burn,  but  —  what  then?  Little  men  are  always 
fussier  and  noisier  than  big  men ;  little  boys  invari- 
ably howl  more  furiously  than  big  boys.  Nature  is 


Three  Months''  Rustication.  125 

Tull  of  analogies ;  and  little  streams,  especially 
mountain  streams,  always  make  more  ado  in  finding 
their  level  than  big  rivers. 

They  got  down  at  last,  and  then  they  found  the 
stream  rushing,  bursting,  crashing  among  rent  and 
riven  rocks  and  bowlders  as  if  it  had  gone  furiously 
mad,  and  was  resolved  never  more  to  flow  and 
murmur,  but  always  to  leap  and  roar.  It  was  im- 
passable ;  to  walk  down  its  banks  or  bed  was  impos- 
sible, so  the  wanderers  had  to  re-ascend  the  bank, 
and  roam  away  over  black  space  in  search  of  another 
crossing.  They  soon  lost  the  sound  in  the  intrica- 
cies of  cliffs  and  dells,  and  never  again  found  that 
stream.  But  they  found  a  narrow  path,  and  Fred 
announced  the  discovery  with  a  cheer.  It  was  an 
extremely  rugged  path,  and  appeared  to  have  been 
macadamized  with  stones  the  size  of  a  man's  head. 
This  led  them  to  suspect  that  it  must  be  a  ditch, 
not  a  path ;  but  it  turned  out  to  be  the  dry  bed  of 
a  mountain  torrent  —  dry,  at  least,  as  regards  run- 
ning water,  though  not  dry  in  respect  of  numerous 
stagnant  pools,  into  which  at  various  times  each 
member  of  the  party  stepped  unintentionally.  It 
mattered  not  —  nothing  could  make  them  wetter 
or  mo-e  miserable  than  they  were  —  so  they 


126  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

thought.  They  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  thoughts 
of  men  are  forever  misleading  them,  and  that  there 
is  nothing  more  certain  than  the  uncertainty  of  all 
human  calculations. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  127 


CHAPTER    XI. 

STILL   LOST  ! 

MEANWHILE,  Mrs.  Sudbeny  waa  thrown  into  a 
species  of  frenzied  horror,  which  no  words  can 
describe,  and  which  was  not  in  any  degree  al- 
layed by  the  grave  shaking  of  the  head  with 
which  Mr.  McAllister  accompanied  his  vain  ef- 
forts to  comfort  and  re-assure  her.  This  excel- 
lent man  quoted  several  passages  from  the  works 
of  Dugald  Stewart  and  Locke,  tending  to  show,  in 
common  parlance,  that  "necessity  has  no  law,"  and 
that  the  rightly  constituted  human  mind  ought 
to  rise  superior  to  all  circumstances  —  quotations 
which  had  the  effect  of  making  Mrs.  Sudberry 
more  hysterical  than  ever,  and  which  induced 
Mrs.  Brown  to  call  him  who  offered  such  conso- 
lation a  "  brute  1 " 

But  McAllister  did  not  confine  his  efforts  solely 
to  the  region  of  mind.  While  he  was  earnestly 
administering  doses  of  the  wisdom  of  Stewart 
and  Lacke  to  the  agitated  lady  in  the  parlor, 


128  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 

Dan  and  Hugh,  with  several  others,  were,  by 
his  orders,  arming  themselves  in  the  kitchen  for 
a  regular  search. 

"  She's  ready,"  said  Dan,  entering  the  parlor 
unceremoniously  with  a  huge  stable  lantern. 

"  That's  right,  Dan  —  keep  away  up  by  the 
slate  corrie,  and  come  doun  by  the  red  tarn.  If 
they've  taken  the  wrong  turn  to  the  right,  you're 
sure  to  fall  in  wi'  them  thereaway.  Send  Hugh 
round  by  the  burn ;  I'll  go  straight  up  the  hill,  and 
come  doun  upon  Loch  Cognahoighliey.  Give  a 
shout  now  and  then,  as  ye  goo." 

Dan  was  a  man  of  action  and  few  words :  he 
vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  turned  immediately  and 
left  the  room,  leaving  a  powerful  odor  of  the 
byre  behind  him. 

Poor  Mrs.  Sudberry  and  Tilly  were  unspeak- 
ably comforted  by  the  grave  business  like  way  in 
which  the  search  was  gone  about.  They  recalled 
to  mind  that  a  search  of  a  somewhat  similar  na- 
ture, in  point  of  manner  and  time,  was  undertaken 
a  week  before  for  a  stray  sheep,  and  that  it  had 
been  successful ;  so  they  felt  relieved,  though  they 
remained,  of  course,  dreadfully  anxious.  McAllis- 
tor  refrained  from  administering  any  more  moral 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  129 

philosophy.  As  he  was  not  at  all  anxious  about 
the  lost  party,  and  was  rather  fond  of  a  sly  joke,  it 
remains  to  this  day  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  he 
really  expected  that  his  nostrums  would  be  of 
much  use.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  breasting 
the  hill  like  a  true  mountaineer,  with  a  lantern 
in  his  hand,  and  with  Hobbs  by  his  side. 

"  Only  think,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs,  Brown,  who  was 
not  usually  judicious  in  her  remarks,  "  only  think 
if  they've  been  an'  fell  hover  a  precipice." 

"  Shocking ! "  exclaimed  poor  Mrs.  Sudberry, 
with  a  little  shriek,  as  she  clapped  her  hands 
on  her  eyes. 

•''Poor  Jacky,  ma'am,  p'raps  'e's  lyin'  hall  in  a 
mangled  'eap  at  the  foot  of  a  "  — 

"  Leave  me ! "  cried  Mrs.  Sudberry,  with  an 
amount  of  sudden  energy  that  quite  amazed  Mrs. 
Brown,  who  left  the  room  feeling  that  she  was 
an  injured  woman. 

"  Darling  mamma,  they  will  come  back  1 "  said 
Tilly,  throwing  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck, 
and  bursting  into  tears  on  her  bosom.  "You 
know  that  the  sheep  —  the  lost  sheep  —  was 
found  last  week,  and  brought  home  quite  safe. 
Dan  is  so  kind,  thoug  i  he  does  not  speak  much, 


130  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 

and  Hugh  too.     They  will  be  sure  to  find  them, 
darling  mamma ! " 

The  sweet  voice  and  the  hopeful  heart  of  the 
child  did  what  philosophy  had  failed  to  accom- 
plish—  Mrs.  Sudberry  was  comforted.  Thus  we 
see,  not  that  philosophy  is  a  vain  thing,  but  that 
philosophy  and  feeling  are  distinct,  and  that  each 
is  utterly  powerless  in  the  domain  of  the  other. 

When  Peter  was  left  alone  by  his  master,  as 
recorded  in  a  former  chapter,  he  sat  himself  down 
n  a  cheerful  frame  of  mind  on  the  sunny  side  of 
>»  large  rock,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoy- 
aaent  of  thorough  repose,  as  well  mental  as  phys- 
ical. The  poor  lad  was  in  that  state  of  extreme 
lassitude  which  renders  absolute  and  motionless 
rest  delightful.  Extended  at  full  length  on  a 
springy  couch  of  heath,  with  his  eyes  peeping 
dreamily  through  the  half-closed  lids  at  the  mag- 
nificent prospect  of  mountains  and  glens  that  lay 
before  him,  and  below  him  too,  so  that  he  felt  like 
a  bird  in  mid-air,  looking  down  upon  the  world, 
with  his  right  arm  under  his  meek  head,  and  both 
pillowed  on  the  plaid,  with  his  countenance  ex- 
posed  to  the  full  blaze  of  the  sun,  and  with  hia 
recent  lunch  commencing  to  operate  on  the  sya- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  131 

tern,  so  as  to  rendei  exhaustion  no  longer  a  pain, 
but  a  pleasure,  Peter  lay  on  that  knoll,  high  up 
the  mountain-side,  in  close  proximity  to  the  clouds, 
dreaming  and  thinking  about  —  nothing;  that  is 
to  say,  about  every  thing  or  any  thing  in  an  imbe- 
cile sort  of  way :  in  other  words,  wandering  in  his 
mind  disjointedly  over  the  varied  regions  of  mem- 
ory and  imagination;  too  tired  to  originate  an 
idea ;  too  indifferent  to  resist  one  when  it  arose ; 
too  weak  to  follow  it  out ;  and  utterly  indifferent 
as  to  whether  his  mind  did  follow  it  out,  or  cut  it 
short  off  in  the  middle. 

We  speak  of  Peter's  mind  as  a  totally  distinct 
and  separate  thing  from  himself.  It  had  taken  the 
bit  in  its  teeth  and  run  away.  He  cared  no  more 
for  it  than  he  did  for  the  nose  on  his  face,  which 
was,  at  that  time,  as  red  as  a  carrot,  by  reason  of 
the  sun  shining  full  on  its  tip.  But  why  attempt  to 
describe  Peter's  thoughts  ?  Here  they  are  —  such 
as  they  were  —  for  the  reader  to  make  what  he  can 
out  of  them. 

"Heigh  ho!  comfortable  now — jolly  —  what  a 
place  !  How  I  hate  mountains  —  climbing  them — 
dreadful !  — like  'em  to  lie  on,  though  —  sun,  I  like 
your  jolly  red-hot  face  —  Sunday !  wonder  if 'a 


132  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

got  to  do  with  sun  —  p'raps  —  twinkle,  twinkle, 
little  sun,  how  I  wonder  —  oh,  what  fun  !  —  won't 
I  have  sich  wonderful  tales  —  tales  —  tails  —  sto« 
ries  are  tails  —  stick  'em  on  the  end  of  puppy- 
dogs,  and  see  how  they'd  look  —  two  or  three  two- 
legged  puppies  in  the  office  —  what  a  difference 
now  1  —  no  ink-bottles,  no  smashings,  no  quills, 
plenty  of  geese,  though,  and  grouse  and  hares  — 
what  was  I  thinking  about  ?  Oh,  yes  —  the  office 
—  no  scribbles  —  no  stools,  no  desks,  No-vember 
— dear  me,  that's  funny!  No-vember  —  what's  a 
vember  ?  Cut  him  in  two  can't  join  him  again  — 
no  —  no  —  snore  !  " 

At  this  point  Peter's  thoughts  went  out  alto- 
gether in  sleep,  leaving  the  happy  youth  in  peace- 
ful oblivion.  He  started  suddenly  after  an  hour's 
nap,  under  the  impression  that  he  was  tumbling 
over  a  precipice. 

To  give  a  little  scream  and  clutch  wildly  at  tho 
heather  was  natural.  He  looked  round.  The  sun 
was  still  hot  and  high.  Scratching  his  head,  as  if 
to  recall  his  faculties,  Peter  stared  vacantly  at  the 
sandwiches  which  lay  beside  him  on  a  piece  of  old 
newspaper.  Gradually  his  hand  wandered  towards 
them,  and  a  gleam  of  intelligence,  accompanied  by 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  133 

a  smile,  overspread  his  countenance  as  he  conveyed 
one  to  his  lips.  Eating  seemed  fatiguing,  how 
ever.  He  soon  laid  the  remnant  down,  drew  the 
plaid  over  him,  nestled  among  the  heather,  and 
dropped  into  a  heavy  sleep  with  a  sigh  of  ineffable 
comfort. 

When  Peter  again  woke  up,  the  sun  was  down, 
and  just  enough  of  light  remained  to  show  that  it  was 
going  to  be  an  intensely  dark  night.  Can  any  one 
describe,  can  any  one  imagine,  the  state  of  Peter's 
feelings  ?  Certainly  not !  Peter,  besides  being 
youthful,  was,  as  we  have  said,  an  extremely  timid 
boy.  He  was  constitutionally  afraid  of  the  dark, 
even  when  surrounded  by  friends.  What,  then, 
were  his  sensations  when  he  found  himself  on  the 
mountain  alone  —  lost !  The  thought  was  horror  1 
Peter  gasped ;  he  leaped  up  with  a  wild  shout, 
gazed  madly  round,  and  sank  down  with  a  deep 
groan.  Up  he  sprang  again,  and  ran  forward  a  few 
paces.  Precipices  occurred  to  him  —  he  turned 
and  ran  as  many  paces  backward.  Bogs  occurred 
to  him  —  he  came  to  a  full  stop,  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  howled.  Up  he  leaped  again,  clapped  both 
hands  to  his  mouth,  and  shouted  until  his  eyes 
threatened  to  come  out  and  his  face  became  pur- 


134  FreaJcs  on  the  Fells;  or, 

pie,  "Master!  Master!  George!  hi!  hallo — o! 
Jacky  !  ho — o — o  !  "  The  "  0  ! "  was  prolonged 
into  a  wild  roar,  and  down  he  went  again  quite  flat. 
dp  he  jumped  once  more ;  the  darkness  was  deep- 
ening. He  rushed  to  the  right — left — all  round — 
tore  his  hair,  and  gazed  into  the  black  depths  below 
—  yelled  and  glared  into  the  dark  vault  above  ! 

Poor  Peter !  Thus  violently  did  his  gentle  spirit 
*eek  relief  during  the  first  few  minutes  of  its  over- 
whelming consternation. 

Bui  he  calmed  down  in  the  course  of  time  into 
a  species  of  mild  despair.  A  bursting  sob  broke 
from  him  occasionally,  as  with  his  face-  buried  in 
bis  hands,  his  head  deep  in  the  heather,  and  his 
eyes  tight  shut,  he  strove  in  vain  to  blind  himself 
to  the  true  nature  of  his  dreadful  position.  At  last 
he  became  recklessly  desperate,  and,  rising  hastily, 
he  fled.  He  sought,  poor  lad,  to  fly  from  himself. 
Of  course  the  effort  was  fruitless.  Instead  of  dis- 
tancing himself — an  impossibility  at  all  times  — 
doubly  so  in  a  rugged  country  —  he  tumbled  him- 
self over  a  cliff  (fortunately  not  a  high  one),  and 
found  himself  in  a  peat-bog  (fortunately  not  a  deep 
one).  Tliii;  pooled  and  somewhat  improved  his 
understan3iTa£  so  that  he  returned  to  the  knoll  a 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  135 

wiser,  a  wetter,  and  a  sadder  boy.  Who  shall  de- 
scribe the  agonies,  the  hopes,  the  fears,  the  wan- 
derings, the  faggings,  and  the  final  despair  of  the 
succeeding  hours?  It  is  impossible  to  say  who 
will  describe  ?.ll  this,  for  we  have  not  the  slightest 
intention  of  attempting  it. 

Towards  midnight  Dan  reached  a  very  dark  and 
lonely  part  of  the  mountains,  and  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  a  low  wail.  The  sturdy  Celt  raised  his 
lantern  on  high.  Just  at  that  moment  Peter's 
despair  happened  to  culminate,  and  he  lifted  his 
head  out  of  the  heather  to  give  free  vent  to  the 
hideous  groan  with  which  he  meant,  if  possible,  to 
terminate  his  existence.  The  groan  became  a 
shriek,  first  of  terror,  then  of  hope  after  that  of 
anxiety,  as  Dan  came  dancing  towards  him  like  a 
Jack-o'-lantern. 

"  Fat  is  she  shriekin'  at  ?  "  said  Dan. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  so  glad  —  I'm  so  —  o  —  ow — hoo  !" 

Poor  Peter  seized  Dan  round  the  legs,  for,  being 
on  his  knees,  he  could  not  reach  higher,  and  em- 
braced him. 

"  Fat's  got  the  maister  ?  » 

Peter  could  not  tell. 

a  Can  she  waalk  ?  " 


136  Frmks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

Peter  couldn't  walk  —  his  limbs  refused  their 
office. 

"  Here,  speel  up  on  her  back." 

Peter  could  do  that.  He  did  it,  and  hugged 
Dan  round  the  neck  with  the  tenacity  of  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner  clinging  to  his  last  plank.  The 
sturdy  Celt  went  down  the  mountain  as  lightly  as 
if  Peter  were  a  fly,  and  as  if  the  vice-like  grip  of 
his  arms  round  his  throat  were  the  embrace  of  a 
worsted  comforter. 

"  Here  they  are,  ma'am ! "  screamed  Mrs.  Brown. 

She  was  wrong.  Mrs.  Brown  was  usually  wrong. 
Peter  alone  was  deposited  before  the  eager  gaze 
of  Mrs.  Sudberry,  who  fainted  away  with  disap- 
pointment. Mrs.  Brown  said  "be  off"  to  Peter, 
and  applied  scent-bottles  to  her  mistress.  The 
poor  boy's  grateful  heart  wanted  to  embrace  some- 
body; so  he  went  slowly  and  sadly  upstairs,  where 
he  found  the  cat,  and  embraced  it.  Hours  passed 
away,  and  the  Sudberry  Family  still  wandered  lost, 
and  almost  hopeless,  among  the  mountains. 


Three  Months'1  Rustication.  137 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FOUND. 

WE  left  Mr.  Sudberry  and  his  children  in  the 
nearly  dry  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent,  indulging 
the  belief  that  matters  were  as  bad  as  could  be, 
and  that,  therefore,  there  was  no  possibility  of  their 
getting  worse. 

A  smart  shower  of  rain  speedily  induced  them 
to  change  their  minds  in  this  respect.  Seeking 
shelter  under  the  projecting  ledge  of  a  great  cliff, 
the  party  stood  for  some  time  there  in  silence. 

"  You  are  cold,  my  pet,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry. 

"Just  a  little,  papa;  I  could  not  help  shudder- 
ing," said  Lucy,  faintly. 

"  Now  for  the  brandy,"  said  her  father,  drawing 
forth  the  flask. 

"  Suppose  I  try  to  kindle  a  fire,"  said  George, 
swinging  the  bundle  containing  Jacky  off  hia 
shoulder,  and  placing  it  in  a  hollow  of  the  rocks. 

"  Well,  suppose  you  try." 

George  proceeded  to  do  so;  but  on  collecting  a 


138  Freaks  on  the  Fells;   or, 

few  broken  twigs  he  found  that  they  weie  soaking 
wet,  and  on  searching  for  the  match-box  he  discov- 
ered that  it  had  been  left  in  the  provision-basket : 
so  they  had  to  content  themselves  with  a  sip  of 
brandy  all  round  —  excepting  Jacky.  That  amia- 
ble child  was  still  sound  asleep ;  but  in  a  few  min- 
utes he  was  heard  to  utter  an  uneasy  squall,  and 
then  George  discovered  that  he  had  deposited  part 
of  his  rotund  person  in  a  puddle  of  water. 

"  Come,  let  us  move  on,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry, 
"  the  rain  gets  heavier.  It  is  of  no  use  putting  off 
time,  we  cannot  be  much  damper  than  we  are." 

Again  the  worthy  man  was  mistaken  ;  for,  in  the 
course  of  another  hour,  they  were  all  so  thoroughly 
drenched,  that  their  previous  condition  might  have 
been  considered,  by  contrast,  one  of  absolute  dry- 
ness. 

Suddenly,  a  stone  wall,  topped  by  a  paling, 
barred  their  further  progress.  Fred,  who  was  in 
advance,  did  not  see  this  wall  —  he  only  felt  it 
when  it  brought  him  up. 

"  Here's  a  gate,  I  believe,"  cried  George,  grop- 
ing about.  It  was  a  gate,  and  it  opened  upon  the 
road !  For  the  first  time  for  many  hours  a  gleam 
of  hope  burst  in  upon  the  benighted  wanderers, 
fresently  a  ray  of  light  dazzled  them. 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  139 

"  What !  do  my  eyes  deceive  me  —  a  cottage  ?  " 
cried  Mr.  Sudberry. 

"  Ay,  and  a  witch  inside,"  said  George. 

<4  Why,  it's  old  —  no,  impossible  ! " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  though  —  it's  old  Moggy's  cottage." 

"  Hurrah ! "  cried  Fred. 

Old  Moggy's  dog  came  out  with  a  burst  of  indig- 
nation that  threatened  annihilation  to  the  whole 
party ;  but,  on  discovering  who  they  were,  it  crept 
humbly  back  into  the  cottage. 

"  Does  she  never  go  to  bed  ? "  whispered 
George,  as  they  approached  and  found  the  old 
woman  moping  over  her  fire,  and  swaying  her 
body  to  and  fro,  with  the  thin  dirty  gown  clinging 
close  to  her  figure,  and  the  spotlessly  clean  plaid 
drawn  tightly  round  her  shoulders. 

"  Good-evening,  old  woman,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry, 
advancing  with  a  conciliatory  air. 

"  It's  mornin',"  retorted  the  old  woman  with  a 
scowl. 

"  Alas !  you  are  right ;  here  have  we  been  lost 
on  the  hills,  and  wandering  all  night ;  and  glad  am  I 
to  find  your  fire  burning,  for  my  poor  daughter  is 
very  cold  and  much  exhausted.  May  we  sit  down 
beside  you?  " 


140  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

No  reply  save  a  furtive  scowl. 

"  What's  that  ? "  asked  Moggy,  sharply,  as 
George  deposited  his  dirty  wet  bundle  on  the  floor 
beside  the  fire  opposite  to  her. 

The  bundle  answered  for  itself,  by  slowly  unroll- 
ing, sitting  up  and  yawning  violently,  at  the  same 
time  raising  both  arms  above  its  head  and  stretch- 
ing itself.  Having  done  this,  it  stared  round  the 
room  with  a  vacant  look,  and  finally  fixed  its  gog- 
gle eyes  in  mute  surprise  on  Moggy. 

The  sight  of  this  wet,  dirty  little  creature  acted, 
as  formerly,  like  a  charm  on  the  old  woman.  Her 
face  relaxed  into  a  smile  of  deep  tenderness.  She 
immediately  rose,  and  taking  the  child  in  her  arms 
carried  him  to  her  stool,  and  sat  down  with  him  in 
her  lap.  Jacky  made  no  resistance ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  sub- 
mit at  once  and  with  a  good  grace  to  the  will  of 
this  strange  old  creature  —  to  the  amazement  as 
well  as  amusement  of  his  relations. 

The  old  woman  took  no  further  notice  of  her 
other  visitors.  She  incontinently  became  stone 
deaf,  and  apparently  blind,  for  she  did  not  deign  to 
bestow  so  much  as  a  glance  on  them,  while  they 
circled  close  round  her  fire  and  heaped  on  fresh 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  141 

sticks  without  asking  leave.  But  she  made  up  for 
this  want  of  courtesy  by  bestowing  the  most  devot- 
ed attentions  on  Jacky.  Finding  that  that  young 
gentleman  was  in  a  filthy  as  well  as  a  moist  condi- 
tion, she  quietly  undressed  him,  and  going  to  a 
rough  chest  in  a  corner  of  the  hut  drew  out  a  full 
suit  of  clothing,  with  which  she  speedily  invested 
him.  The  garb  was  peculiar  —  a  tartan  jacket, 
kilt,  and  hose;  and  these  seemed  to  have  been 
made  expressly  for  him,  they  fitted  so  well.  Al- 
though quite  clean,  thin,  threadbare,  and  darned, 
the  appearance  of  the  garments  showed  that  they 
had  been  much  worn.  Having  thus  clothed  Jacky, 
the  old  woman  embraced  him  tenderly,  then  held 
him  at  arm's-length  and  gazed  at  him  for  a  few 
minutes.  Finally,  she  pushed  him  gently  away 
and  burst  into  tears  —  rocking  herself  to  and  fro, 
and  moaning  dismally. 

Meanwhile  Jacky,  still  perfectly  mute  and  ob- 
servant, sat  doY»ii  on  a  log  beside  the  poor  old 
dame,  and  stared  at  her  until  the  violence  of  her 
grief  began  to  subside.  The  other  members  of  the 
party  stared  too  —  at  her  and  at  each  other  —  aa 
if  to  say,  "  What  can  all  this  mean  ?  " 

At  kst  Jacky  began  to  manifest  signs  of  impa 
tience,  and,  pulling  her  sleeve,  he  said  — 


142  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Now,  g'anny,  lollipops  ! " 

Old  Moggy  smiled,  rose,  went  to  the  cbest  again, 
and  returned  with  a  handful  of  sweetmeats,  with 
which  Jacky  at  once  proceeded  to  regale  himself, 
to  the  infinite  joy  of  the  old  woman. 

Mr.  Sudberry  now  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  must  be  a  secret  understanding  between  this 
remarkable  couple ;  and  he  was  right.  Many  a 
time  during  the  last  two  weeks  had  Master  Jacky, 
all  unknown  to  his  parents,  made  his  way  to  old 
Moggy's  hut — :  attracted  thereto  by  the  splendid 
"  lollipops  "  with  which  the  subtle  old  creature  be- 
guiled him,  and  also  by  the  extraordinary  amount 
of  affection  she  lavished  upon  him.  Besides  this, 
the  child  had  a  strong  dash  of  romance  in  his 
nature,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  deep  interest  to  him 
to  be  a  courted  guest  in  such  a  strange  old  hovel, 
and  to  be  fondled  and  clothed,  as  he  often  was,  in 
Highland  costume,  by  one  who  scowled  upon  every 
one  else  —  excepting  her  little  dog,  with  which 
animal  he  became  an  intimate  friend.  Jacky  did 
not  trouble  himself  to  inquire  into  the  reason  of 
the  old  woman's  partiality  —  sufficient  for  him  that 
he  enjoyed  her  hospitality  and  her  favor,  and  that 
he  was  engaged  in  what  he  had  a  vague  idea  must 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  143 

needs  be  a  piece  of  clandestine  and  very  terrible 
wickedness.  His  long  absences,  during  these  visits, 
had  indeed  been  noticed  by  his  mother;  but  as 
Jacky  was  in  the  habit  of  following  his  own  incli- 
nations in  every  thing  and  at  all  times,  without 
deigning  to  give  an  account  of  himself,  it  was 
generally  understood  that  he  had  just  strayed  a 
little  farther  than  usual  while  playing  about. 

While  this  was  going  on  in  Moggy's  hut,  George 
had  been  despatched  to  inform  Mrs.  Sudberry  of 
their  safety.  The  distance  being  short,  he  soon 
ran  over  the  ground,  and  burst  in  upon  his  mother 
with  a  cheer.  Mrs.  Sudberry  sprang  into  his  arms, 
and  burst  into  tears ;  Mrs.  Brown  lay  down  on  the 
sofa,  and  went  into  quiet  hysterics ;  and  little  Tilly, 
who  had  gone  to  bed  hours  before  in  a  condition 
of  irresistible  drowsiness,  jumped  up  with  a 
scream,  and  came  skipping  down  stairs  in  her 
night-gown. 

"  Safe,  mother,  safe  ! " 

"And  Jacky?" 

«  Safe,  too,  all  of  us." 

"  Oh !  I'm  so  thankful." 

"  No,  not  all  of  us,"  said  George,  suddenly  recol« 
lecting  Peter 


Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 


Mrs.  Sudberry  gasped  and  turned  pale.  "  Oh  J 
George  !  quick,  tell  me  "  — 

"  Poor  Peter,"  began  George. 

"  Please,  sir,  I've  bin  found,"  said  a  meek  voice 
behind  him,  at  which  George  turned  round  with  a 
start  —  still  supporting  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Brown,  perceiving  the  ludicrous  nature  of 
the  remark,  began  to  grow  violent  on  the  sofa,  and 
to  kick  a  little.  Then  Mrs.  Sudberry  asked  for 
each  of  the  missing  ones  individually  —  sobbing 
between  each  question  —  and  at  each  sob  Tilly's 
sympathetic  bosom  heaved,  and  Mrs.  Brown  gave  a 
kick  and  a  subdued  scream.  Then  George  began 
to  tell  the  leading  features  of  their  misfortunes 
rapidly,  and  Mrs.  Brown  listened  intently  until 
Mrs.  Sudberry  again  sobbed,  when  Mrs.  Brown  im- 
mediately recollected  that  she  was  in  hysterics,  and 
recommenced  kicking. 

"  But  where  are  they  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Sudberry, 
suddenly. 

"  I  was  just  coming  to  that  —  they're  at  old  Mog- 
gy's hut,  drying  themselves  and  resting." 

"  Oh  !  I'll  go  down  at  once.     Take  me  there." 

Accordingly,  the  poor  lady  threw  on  her  bonnet 
and  shawl  and  set  off  with  George  for  the  cottago, 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  145 

leaving  M.-s.  Brown,  now  relieved  from  all  anxiety, 
kicking  and  screaming  violently  on  the  sofa,  to  the 
great  alarm  of  Hobbs,  who  just  then  returned  from 
his  fruitless  search. 

"My  son,  my  darling!"  cried  Mrs.  Sudberry,  as 
she  rushed  into  the  cottage,  and  clasped  Jacky  in 
her  arms.  She  could  say  no  more,  and  if  she  had 
said  more  it  could  not  have  been  heard,  for  her  ap- 
pearance created  dire  confusion  and  turmoil  in  the 
hovel.  The  lost  and  found  wanderers  started  up 
to  welcome  her,  the  little  dog  sprang  up  to  bark 
furiously  and  repel  her,  and  the  old  woman  ran  at 
her,  screaming,  with  intent  to  rescue  Jacky  from 
her  grasp.  There  was  a  regular  scuffle,  for  the 
old  woman  was  strong  in  her  rage,  but  George  and 
Fred  held  her  firmly  though  tenderly  back,  while 
Mr.  S.  hurried  his  alarmed  spouse  and  their  child 
out  of  the  hut,  and  made  for  home  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble. Lucy  followed  with  George  almost  immedi- 
ately after,  leaving  Fred  to  do  his  best  to  calm  and 
comfort  the  old  woman.  For  his  humane  efforts 
Fred  received  a  severe  scratching  on  the  face,  and 
was  compelled  to  seek  refuge  in  flight. 


146  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

VISITING    THE    POOR. 

FOR  some  time  after  this  the  Sudberry  Family 
were  particularly  careful  not  to  wander  too  far 
from  their  mountain  home.  Mr.  Sudberry  forbade 
every  one,  on  pain  of  his  utmost  displeasure,  to 
venture  up  among  the  hills  without  McAllister  or 
one  of  his  lads  as  a  guide.  As  a  further  precau- 
tion, he  wrote  for  six  pocket  compasses  to  be  for- 
warded as  soon  as  possible. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  wife,  "  since  you  are  writing 
home,  you  may  as  well "  — 

"  My  dear,  I  am  not  writing  home." 

"You're  writing  to  London  for  compasses,  are 
you  not  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry  with  a  smile.  "  I  be- 
lieve  they  understand  how  to  manufacture  the  mar- 
iner's compass  in  Scotland  —  I  am  writing  to  my 
Edinburgh  agent  for  them." 

"  Oh !  ah ;  well,  it  did  not  occur  to  me.  Now 
you  mention  it,  I  think  I  have  heard  lhat  the  Scotch 
have  sort  of  scientific  tendencies." 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  147 

"  Yes,  they  are  '  feelosophically '  inclined,  as  our 
friend  McAllister  would  say.  But  what  did  you 
want,  my  love  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  hobby-horse  to  be  sent  to  us  for 
Jacky ;  but  it  will  be  of  no  use  writing  to  Edin- 
burgh for  one.  I  suppose  they  do  not  use  such 
things  in  a  country  where  there  are  so  few  real 
horses,  and  so  few  roads  fit  for  a  horse  to  walk  on." 

Mr.  Sudberry  made  no  reply,  not  wishing  to  in- 
cur the  expense  of  such  a  useless  piece  of  furni- 
ture, and  his  wife  continued  her  needlework  with 
a  sigh.  From  the  bottom  of  her  large  heart  she 
pitied  the  Scottish  nation,  and  wondered  whether 
there  was  the  remotest  hope  of  the  place  ever 
being  properly  colonized  by  the  English,  and  the 
condition  of  the  aborigines  ameliorated. 

"  Mamma,  I'm  going  with  Flora  Macdonald  to 
visit  her  poor  people,"  said  Lucy,  entering  at  the 
moment  with  a  flushed  face,  —  for  Lucy  was  ad- 
dicted to  running  when  in  a  hurry,  —  and  with  a 
coquettish  little  round  straw  hat. 

"Very  well,  my  love,  but  do  take  that  good- 
natured  man  to  guide  you — Mr.  What's-his-name — 
IVe  such  a  memory !  Ah  1  McCannister ;  do  take 
him  with  you,  dear." 


148  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  There  is  no  need,  mamma.  Nearly  all  the  cot 
tages  lie  along  the  road-side,  and  Flora  is  quite  at 
borne  here,  you  know." 

"  True,  true,  I  forgot  that." 

Mrs.  Sudberry  sighed  and  Lucy  laughed  gayly  aa 
she  ran  down  the  hill  to  meet  her  friend.  The  first 
cottage  they  visited  was  a  little  rough  thatched 
one  with  a  low  roof,  one  door,  and  two  little  win- 
dows, in  which  latter  there  were  four  small  panes 
of  glass,  with  a  knot  in  each.  The  interior  was 
similar  to  that  of  old  Moggy's  hut,  but  there  was 
more  furniture  in  it,  and  the  whole  was  pervaded 
by  an  air  of  neatness  and  cleanliness  that  spoke 
volumes  for  its  owner. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Cameron's  cottage,"  whispered 
Flora  as  they  entered.  "  She  was  knocked  over  by 
a  horse  while  returning  from  church  last  Sunday, 
and  I  fear  has  been  badly  shaken.  —  Well,  Mrs. 
Cameron,  how  are  you  to-day  ?  " 

A  mild  little  voice  issued  from  a  box-bed  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.  "  Thankee,  mem,  I'm  no  that 
ill,  mem.  The  Lord  is  vera  kind  to  me  —  ay." 

There  was  a  mild  sadness  in  the  tone,  a  sort  of 
—  the-world's-in-an-awfu'-state,-but-no-doot-it's-a'-for- 
the-best/-an'-I'm-resigned-to-my-lot,-though-I-wad-na« 


Three  Months'  Mu,stlc<J,ion.  149 

objoc'-to-its-being-a-we-thmg-better-ooay  —  feeling 
in  it.  which  told  of  much  sorrow  in  years  gone  by, 
and  of  deep  humility,  for  there  was  not  a  shade  of 
complaint  in  the  tone. 

"  Has  the  doctor  been  to  see  you,  my  dear 
granny  ?  "  inquired  Flora,  sitting  down  at  the  side 
of  the  box-bed,  while  Lucy  seated  herself  on  a 
stool  and  tried  to  pierce  the  gloom  within. 

"  Oo,  ay,  he  cam'  an'  pood  aff  ma  mutch,  an' 
fcel'd  ma  heed  a'over,  but  he  said  nothin'  —  only 
to  lie  quiet  an'  tak  a  pickle  water-gruel,  oo  ay." 

As  the  voice  said  this  its  owner  raised  herself 
on  one  elbow,  and,  peering  out  with  a  pair  of 
bright  eyes,  displayed  to  her  visitor  the  small, 
withered,  yet  healthy  countenance  of  one  who 
must  have  been  a  beautiful  girl  in  her  youth.  She 
was  now  upwards  of  seventy,  and  was,  as  Lucy 
afterwards  said,  "  a  sweet,  charming,  dear  old  wo- 
man." Her  features  were  extremely  small  and  del- 
icate, and  her  eyes  had  an  anxious  look,  as  if  she 
were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  periodical  shocks  of 
grief,  and  were  wondering  what  shape  the  next  one 
would  take. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  bottle  of  wine,"  said 
Flora ;  "  now  don't  shake  your  head  —  you  must  take 


150  Freaks  on  tht  Fells;  or, 

it ;  you  cannot  get  well  on  gruel.  Your  daughter 
is  at  our  house  just  now :  I  shall  meet  her  on  my 
way  home,  and  will  tell  her  to  insist  on  your  taking 
it." 

The  old  woman  smiled,  and  looked  at  Lucy. 

"  This  is  a  friend  whom  I  have  brought  to  see 
you,"  said  .Flora,  observing  the  glance.  The  old 
woman  held  out  her  hand,  and  Lucy  pressed  it  ten- 
derly. "  She  has  come  all  the  way  from  London  to 
see  our  mountains,  granny." 

"  Ay  ?  "  said  the  old  woman  with  a  kind  mother- 
ly smile :  "  it's  a  lang  way  to  Lunnon,  a  la-a-ng  way 
ay.  Ye'll  be  thinkin'  we're  a  wild  kind  o'  folk  here- 
away ;  somewhat  uncouth  we  are,  no  doot." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  you  are  very  nice  people,"  said 
Lucy,  earnestly.  "  I  had  no  idea  how  charming 
your  country  was,  until  I  came  to  it." 

"  Ay,  oo  ay  !  we  can  only  get  ideas  by  seein'  or 
readin'.  It's  a  grawnd  thing,  travellin',  but  it's 
wonderfu'  what  rcadiii'  '11  do.  My  guid-rnan,  that's 
deed  this  therteen  year,  —  ay, —  come  Marti'mas,  ho 
wrought  in  Lunnon  for  a  year  before  we  was  marrit, 
an'  he  sent  me  the  newspapers  reglar  once  a  month 
—  ay,  the  English  is  fine  folk.  My  guid-man  aye 
said  that.'- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  151 

Lucy  expressed  much  interest  in  this  visit  of 
the  departed  guid-man,  and,  having  touched  a  chord 
which  was  extremely  sensitive  and  not  easily  put 
to  rest  after  having  been  made  to  vibrate,  old  Mrs. 
Cameron  entertained  her  with  a  sweet  and  prolix 
•<;  *Nount  of  the  last  illness,  death,  and  burial  of  the 
saiu  guid-man,  with  the  tears  swelling  up  in  ter 
bright  old  eyes  and  hopping  over  her  wrinkled 
cheeks,  until  Flora  forbade  her  to  say  another  word, 
reminding  her  of  the  doctor's  orders  to  keep  quiet. 

"  Oo  ay,  ye'll  be  gawiii'  to  read  me  a  bit  o'  the 
book  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  would  ask  that ;  what  shall  it 
be?" 

"  Oo,  ye  canna  go  wrang." 

Flora  opened  the  Bible,  and,  selecting  a  passage, 
read  it  in  a  slow,  clear  tone,  while  the  old  woman 
lay  back  and  listened  with  her  eyes  upturned  and 
her  hands  clasped. 

"  Isn't  it  grawnd  ?  "  said  she,  appealing  to  Lucy 
with  a  burst  of  feeling,  when  Flora  had  concluded. 

Lucy  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by  this  enthu- 
siastic display  of  love  for  the  Bible,  and  felt  some- 
what embarrassed  for  an  appropriate  answer ;  but 
Flora  came  to  her  rescue  — 


152  Freaks  o»  tie  Fdls ,   or, 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  book,  granny ;  it  will 
amuse  you  when  you  are  able  to  get  up  and  read. 
There  now,  no  thanks — you  positively  must  lie 
down  and  try  to  sleep.  I  see  your  cheek  is  flushed 
with  all  this  talking.  Good-day,  granny ! " 

"  The  next  whom  we  will  visit  is  a  very  different 
character,"  said  Flora,  as  they  walked  briskly  along 
the  road  that  followed  the  windings  of  the  river : 
u  he  dwells  half  a  mile  oftv7 

a  Then  you  will  have  time  to  tell  me  about  old 
Moggy,"  said  Lucy.  "  You  have  not  yet  fulfilled 
your  promise  to  tell  me  the  secret  connected  with 
her,  and  I  am  burning  with  impatience  to  know  it." 

u  Of  course  you  are ;  every  girl  of  your  age  is 
set  on  fire  by  a  secret.  I  have  a  mind  to  keep  you 
burning  a  little  longer." 

"And  pray,  grandmamma,"  said  Luc/,  with  an 
expressive  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "  at  what  period  of 
your  prolonged  life  did  you  come  to  form  such  a 
just  estimate  of  character  in  girls  of  my  age  ?  " 

"I'll  answer  that  question  another  time,"  said 
Flora ;  "  meanwhile,  I  will  relent  and  tell  you  ah  out 
old  Moggy.  But,  after  all,  there  is  not  much  to 
tell,  and  there  is  no  secret  connected  with  her,  al- 
though there  is  a  little  mystery." 


Three  MontJitf  Rustication.  153 

-  Xo  secret,  jet  a  mystery!  a  distinction  without 
a  difference,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Perhaps  it  is.  You  shall  hear:  —  When  a 
middle-aged  woman,  Moggy  was  housekeeper  to 
Mr.  Hamilton,  a  landed  proprietor  in  this  neighbor- 
hood. Mr.  Hamilton's  gardener  fell  in  love  with 
Moggy ;  they  married,  and,  returning  to  this  their 
native  hamlet,  settled  down  in  the  Email  hut 
which  the  old  woman  still  occupies.  They  had 
one  daughter,  named  Mary,  after  Mr.  Hamilton's 
sister.  When  Mary  was  ten  years  old  her  father 
died  of  fever,  and  soon  afterwards  Moggy  was 
taken  again  into  Mr.  Hamilton's  household  in  her 
old  capacity;  for  his  sister  was  an  invalid,  and 
quite  unfit  to  manage  his  house.  In  the  course 
of  time  little  Mary  became  a  woman  and  married  a 
former  at  a  considerable  distance  from  this  neigh- 
borhood. They  had  one  child,  a  beautiful  fair- 
haired  little  fellow.  On  the  very  day  that  he  was 
born  his  father  was  killed  by  a  kick  from  a  horse. 
The  shock  to  the  poor  mother  was  so  great,  that 
she  sank  under  it  and  died.  Thus  the  little  infant 
was  left  entirely  to  the  care  of  his  gran  Imother. 
He  was  named  Willie,  after  his  father. 

"Death  seemed  to  cast  his  shadow  over  poor 


154  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

Moggy's  path  all  her  life  through.  Shortly  after 
this  event  Mr.  Hamilton  died  suddenly.  This  waa 
a  great  blow  to  the  housekeeper,  for  she  was  much 
attached  to  her  old  master,  who  had  allowed  her 
to  keep  her  little  grandson  beside  her  under  his 
roof.  The  sister  survived  her  brother  about  five 
years.  After  her  death  the  housekeeper  returned 
to  her  old  hut,  where  she  has  ever  since  lived  on 
the  interest  of  a  small  legacy  left  her  by  her  old 
master.  Little  Willie,  or  wee  Wullie,  as  she  used 
to  call  him,  was  the  light  of  old  Moggy's  eyes,  and 
the  joy  of  her  heart.  She  idolized  and  would  have 
spoiled  him,  had  that  been  possible  ;  but  the  child 
was  of  a  naturally  sweet  disposition,  and  would 
not  spoil.  He  was  extremely  amiable  and  gentle, 
yet  bold  as  a  young  lion,  and  full  of  fun.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  poor  old  Moggy  was  both  proud  and 
fond  of  him  in  an  extraordinary  degree.  The 
blow  of  his  removal  well-nigh  withered  her  up, 
bcdy  and  soul "  — 

"He  died?"  said  Lucy,  looking  up  at  Flora 
with  tearful  eyes. 

"  No,  he  did  not :  perhaps  it  would  have  been 
better  if  the  poor  child  had  died ;  you  shall  hear. 
When  Willie  was  six  years  old  a  gang  of  gypsies 


Three  Months'  JRusticatwn.  155 

passed  through  this  hamlet,  and,  taking  up  their 
abode  on  the  common,  remained  for  some  time. 
They  were  a  wild,  dangerous  set,  and  became 
such  a  nuisance  that  the  inhabitants  at  last  took 
the  law  into  their  own  hands,  and  drove  them 
away.  Just  before  this  occurred  little  Willie 
disappeared.  Search  was  made  for  him  every- 
where, but  in  vain.  The  gypsies  were  suspected, 
and  their  huts  examined.  Suspicion  fell  chiefly 
on  one  man,  a  stout  ill-favored  fellow,  with  an 
ugly  squint  and  a  broken  nose;  but  nothing 
could  be  proved  either  against  him  or  the  others, 
except  that,  at  the  time  of  the  child's  disappear- 
ance, this  man  was  absent  from  the  camp.  From 
that  day  to  this,  dear  little  Willie  has  never  been 
heard  of. 

"  At  first,  the  poor  old  grandmother  went  about 
almost  mad  with  despair  and  anxiety,  but,  as  years 
passed  by,  she  settled  down  into  the  moping  old 
creature  you  have  seen  her.  It  is  five  years 
since  that  event.  Willie  will  be  eleven  yeara 
old  now,  if  alive;  but,  alas!  I  fear  he  must  be 
dead." 

"  What  a  sad,  sad  tale  ! "  said  Lucy.  "  I  sup- 
pose  it  must  be  because  our  Jacky  is  about  the 


156  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

age  that  Willie  was  when  he  was  stolen,  that 
the  poor  woman  has  evinced  such  a  fondness  for 
him." 

"Possibly;  and,  now  I  think  of  it,  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  resemblance  between  the  two,  espe- 
cially about  the  hair  and  eyes,  though  Willie  waa 
much  more  beautiful.  You  have  noticed,  no 
doubt,  that  Moggy  wears  a  clean  plaid  "  — 

"  Oh,  yes,"  interrupted  Lucy ;  "  I  have  observed 
that." 

"That  was  the  plaid  that  Willie  used  to  wear 
in  winter.  His  grandmother  spends  much  of  her 
time  in  washing  it ;  she  takes  great  pains  to  keep 
it  clean.  The  only  mystery  about  the  old  woman 
is  the  old  chest  in  one  corner  of  her  hut.  She 
keeps  it  jealously  locked,  and  no  one  has  ever 
found  out  what  is  in  it,  although  the  inquisitive 
folk  of  the  place  are  very  anxious  to  know.  But 
it  does  not  require  a  wizard  to  tell  that.  Doubt- 
less it  contains  the  clothing  and  toys  of  her 
grandson.  Poor  old  Moggy  !  " 

"  I  can  enlighten  you  on  that  point,"  said  Lucy, 
eagerly  opening  the  lid  of  a  small  basket  which 
hung  on  her  arm,  and  displaying  the  small  suit  of 
Highland  clothing  in  which  Jacky  had  been  con- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  157 

veyed  home  on  the  night  when  the  Sudberrya 
were  lost  on  the  hills.  "  This  suit  came  out  of  the 
large  chest ;  and  as  I  knew  you  meant  to  visit  Mog- 
gy to-day,  I  brought  it  with  me." 

The  two  friends  reached  the  door  of  a  small  cot- 
tage as  Lucy  said  this,  and  tapped.  "  Come  in  !  " 
gruffly  said  a  man's  voice.  This  was  one  of  Flo- 
ra's difficult  cases.  The  man  was  bed-ridden,  and 
was  nursed  by  a  grand-daughter.  He  was  quite 
willing  to  accept  comfort  from  Flora,  especially 
when  it  took  the  shape  of  food  and  medicine  ;  but 
he  would  not  listen  to  the  Bible.  Flora  knew  that 
he  liked  her  visits,  however ;  so,  with  prayers  in 
her  heart  and  the  Bible  in  her  hand,  she  perse- 
vered  hopefully,  yet  with  such  delicacy  that  the 
gruff  old  man  became  gruffer  daily,  as  his  con- 
science began  to  reprove  him  for  his  gruffness. 

Thus,  from  hut  to  hut  she  went,  with  love  to 
mankind  in  her  heart  and  the  name  of  Jesus  on 
her  lip ;  sometimes  received  with  smiles  and  sent 
away  with  blessings,  occasionally  greeted  with  a 
cold  look,  and  allowed  to  depart  with  a  frigid 
"  good-day  ! " 

Lucy  had  often  wished  for  some  such  work  as 
this  at  home,  but  had  not  yet  found  courage  to 


158  Freaks  on  fhe  Fells;  or, 

begin.  She  was  deeply  sympathetic  and  observ- 
ant. Old  Moggy  was  the  last  they  visited  that 
day.  Flora  was  the  only  female  she  would  toler- 
ate. 

"  I've  been  tryin'  to  say't  a'  night  an7  I  canna 
do't !  "  she  said  stoutly,  as  the  ladies  entered. 

"You  forget  the  words,  perhaps,  dear  Moggy  — 
'  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath ' "  —  "  Na,  na, 
I  dinna  forget  them,  but  I  canna  say  them."  So 
Flora  sat  down  on  a  stool,  and  gently  sought,  by 
means  of  the  Bible,  to  teach  the  old  woman  one  of 
the  most  difficult  lessons  that  poor  human  nature 
has  got  to  learn  in  this  world  of  mingled  happ:'nesa 
and  woe. 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  159 


A  SURPRISE   AND   A   BATTLE. 

"  HERE  !  halloo  !  hi !  Hobbs  !  I  say,"  shouted  Mr. 
Sudberry,  running  out  at  the  front  door,  after  hav- 
ing swept  Lucy's  workbox  off  the  table  and  trod- 
den on  the  cat's  tail.  "  Where  has  that  fellow  gone 
to?  He's  always  out  of  the  way.  Halloo!  (look- 
ing up  at  the  nursery  window)  Mrs.  Brown  ! " 

Mrs.  Brown,  being  deeply  impressed  with  the 
importance  of  learning  (just  because  of  Mrs.  Sud- 
berry's  contempt  thereof),  was  busily  engaged  at 
that  moment  in  teaching  Miss  Tilly  and  Master 
Jacky  a  piece  of  very  profound  knowledge. 

"  Now,  Miss  Tilly,  what  is  the  meaning  of  pro- 
crastination ?  "  ("  Ho !  hi !  halloo-o-o-o  "  from  Mr. 
Sudberry ;  but  Mrs.  Brown,  supposing  the  shout  is 
meant  for  any  one  but  herself,  takes  no  notice  of 
it.) 

Titty.  — "Doing  to-day  what  you  might  have  put 
off  till  to-morrow."  ("Halloo!  ho!  don't  you 
hear  ?  hi ! "  from  below.) 


160  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

Mrs.  Brown.  —  "  No,  you  little  goose!  What 
is  it,  Jacky?" 

Jacky.  — "  Doing  to-morrow  what  you  might 
have  put  off  till  to-day."  ("  Hi !  halloo  !  are  you 
deaf  up  there  ?  ") 

Mrs.  Brown.  —  "  Worse  and  worse,  stupid  little 
goose ! " 

Jacky  (indignantly).  —  "  Well,  then,  if  it's  nei- 
ther one  thing  nor  t'other,  just  let's  hear  what  you 
make  it  out  to  be  "  —  ("  Hi !  ho  !  halloo  !  Mrs. 
Bra-a-o-w-n !  ") 

"  Bless  me,  I  think  papa  is  calling  on  me.  Yes, 
sir.  Was  you  calling,  sir?"  (throwing  up  the  win- 
dow and  looking  out.) 

"  Calling !  no ;  I  wasn't  '  calling.'  I  was  shriek- 
ing, howling,  yelling.  Is  Hobbs  there  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  'Obbs  is  not  'ere,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  be  so  good  as  to  go  and  look  for 
him,  and  say  I  want  him  directly  to  go  for  the  let- 
ters." 

"  'Ere  I  am,  sir,"  said  Hobbs,  coming  suddenly 
round  the  corner  of  the  house,  with  an  appearance 
of  extreme  haste. 

Hobbs  had,  in  fact,  been  within  hearing  of  his 
master,  having  been,  during  the  last  half-hour, 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  161 

seated  in  McAllister's  kitchen,  where  the  uproarious 
merriment  had  drowned  all  other  sounds.  Hobbs 
had  become  a  great  favorite  with  the  Highland 
family,  owing  to  his  hearty  good  humor  and  ready 
power  of  rapartee.  The  sharp  Cockney,  with  the 
easy-going  effrontery  peculiar  to  his  race,  attempt- 
ed to  amuse  the  household  —  namely,  Mrs.  McAllis- 
ter, Dan,  Hugh,  and  two  good-looking  and  sturdy- 
limbed  servant-girls  — by  measuring  wits  with  the 
"  canny  Scot,"  as  he  called  the  farmer.  He  soon 
found,  however,  that  he  had  caught  a  Tartar.  The 
good-natured  Highlander  met  his  raillery  with  what 
we  may  call  a  smile  of  grave  simplicity,  and  led 
him  slyly  into  committing  himself  in  such  a  way 
that  even  the  untutored  servants  could  see  how  far 
the  man  was  behind  their  master  in  general  knowl- 
edge ;  but  Hobbs  took  refuge  in  smart  reply,  con- 
fident assertion,  extreme  volubility,  and  the  use  of 
hard  words,  so  that  it  sometimes  seemed  to  the  do- 
mestics as  if  he  really  had  some  considerable  power 
in  argument.  Worthy  Mrs.  McAllister  never  joined 
in  the  debate,  except  by  a  single  remark  now  and 
then.  She  knew  her  son  thoroughly,  and  be- 
fore the  Sudberrys  had  been  a  week  at  the  White 
H«us3  s'ae  understood  Hobbs  through  and  through. 
II 


162  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

She  was  wont  to  sit  a;  her  spinning-wheel  regard- 
ing this  intellectual  sparring  with  grave  interest,  as 
a  peculiar  phase  of  the  human  mind.  A  very  sharp 
encounter  had  created  more  laughter  than  usual  at 
the  time  when  Mr.  Sudberry  halloed  for  his  man- 
servant. 

"  You  must  be  getting  deaf,  Hobbs,  I  fear," 
said  the  master,  at  once  pacified  by  the  man's  ar- 
rival ;  "  go  down  and  fetch  "  — 

"  Pray  do  not  send  him  away  just  now,"  cried 
Mrs.  Sudberry:  "I  have  something  particular  for 
him  to  do.  Can  you  go  down  yourself,  dear  ?  " 

The  good  man  sighed.  "  Well,  I  will  go,"  and 
accordingly  away  he  went. 

"  Stay,  my  dear." 

"  Well." 

"I  expect  one  or  two  small  parcels  by  the 
coach  this  morning;  mind  you  ask  for  'em  and 
bring  ;em  up." 

"  Ay,  ay  ! "  and  Mr.  Sudberry,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  his  wideawake  thrust  back  and 
very  much  on  one  side  of  his  head,  sauntered 
down  the  hill  towards  the  road. 

One  of  the  disadvantageous  points  about  the 
White  House  was  its  distance  from  any  town  or 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  163 

market.  The  nearest  shop  was  four  miles  off,  so 
that  bread,  butchei  meat,  and  groceries,  had  to  be 
ordered  a  couple  of  days  beforehand,  and  were 
conveyed  to  their  destination  by  the  mail-coach. 
Even  after  they  were  deposited  at  the  gate  of  Mr. 
McAllister's  farm,  there  was  still  about  half  a  mile 
of  rugged  cart-road  to  be  got  over  before  they 
could  be  finally  deposited  in  the  White  House. 
This  was  a  matter  of  constant  anxiety  to  Mr.  Sud- 
berry,  because  it  was  necessary  that  some  one 
should  be  at  the  gate  regularly  to  receive  letters 
and  parcels,  and  this  involved  constant  attention  to 
the  time  of  the  mail  passing.  When  no  one  was 
there,  the  coachman  left  the  property  of  the  family 
at  the  side  of  the  road.  Hobbs,  however,  was 
usually  up  to  time,  fair  weather  and  foul,  and  this 
was  the  first  time  his  master  had  been  called  on  to 
go  for  the  letters. 

Walking  down  the  road,  Mr.  Sudberry  whistled 
an  extremely  operatic  air,  in  the  contentment  of 
his  heart,  and  glanced  from  side  to  side,  with  a 
feeling  amounting  almost  to  affection,  at  the  vari- 
ous objects  which  had  now  become  quite  familiar 
to  him,  and  with  many  of  which  he  had  interesting 
a?sGciatiom 


164  Freaks  on  tJu  Fells;  or, 

There  was  the  miniature  hut,  ou  the  roof  of 
which  he  usually  laid  his  rod  on  returning  from  a 
day's  fisting.  There  was  the  rude  stone  bridge 
over  the  burn,  on  the  low  parapet  of  which  he 
and  the  family  were  wont  to  sit  on  fine  even- 
ings, and  commune  of  fishing,  and  boating,  and 
climbing,  and  wonder  whether  it  would  be  possi- 
ble ever  again  to  return  to  the  humdrum  life 
of  London.  There  was  the  pool  in  the  same 
burn  over  which  one  day  he,  reckless  man,  had 
essayed  to  leap,  and  into  which  he  had  tumbled, 
when  in  eager  pursuit  of  Jacky.  A  little  below 
this  was  the  pool  into  which  the  said  Jacky  had 
rushed  in  wild  desperation  on  finding  that  his 
father  was  too  fleet  for  him.  Passing  through  a 
five-barred  gate  into  the  next  field,  he  skirted  the 
base  of  a  high,  precipitous  crag,  on  which  grew  a 
thicket  of  dwarf  trees  and  shrubs,  and  at  the  foot 
of  which  the  burn  warbled.  Here,  on  his  left, 
stood  the  brier  bush  out  of  which  had  whirred  the 
first  live  grouse  he  ever  set  eyes  on.  It  was  at 
this  bird,  that,  in  the  madness  of  his  excitement, 
he  had  flung  first  his  stick,  then  his  hat,  and  lastly 
his  shout  of  disappointment  and  defiance.  A  little 
further  on  "was  that  other  bush  out  of  which  he 


Three  Montlis*  Rustication.  165 

had  started  so  many  grouse  that  he  now  never  ap- 
proached  it  without  a  stone  in  each  hand,  his  eyes 
and  nostrils  dilated,  and  his  breath  restrained.  He 
never  by  any  chance  on  these  occasions  sent  his 
artillery  within  six  yards  of  the  game ;  but  once, 
•when  he  approached  the  bush  in  a  profound  rev- 
ery,  and  without  the  usual  preparation,  he  actu- 
ally saw  a  bird  crouching  in  the  middle  of  it !  To 
seize  a  large  stone  and  hit  the  ground  at  least  forty 
yards  beyond  the  bush  was  the  work  of  a  moment. 
Up  got  the  bird  with  a  tremendous  whizz !  He 
flung  his  stick  wildly,  and,  hitting  it  (by  chance) 
fair  on  the  head,  brought  it  down.  To  rush  at  it, 
fall  on  it,  crush  it  almost  flat,  and  rise  up  slowly 
holding  it  very  tight,  was  the  result  of  this  suc- 
cessful piece  of  poaching.  Another  result  was  a 
charming  addition  to  a  dinner  a  few  days  after- 
wards. 

At  all  these  objects  Mr.  Sudberry  gazed  benig- 
nantly  as  he  sauntered  along  in  the  sunshine,  in- 
dulging in  sweet  memories  of  the  recent  past,  and 
whistling  operatically. 

The  high-road  gained,  he  climbed  upon  the  gate, 
seated  himself  upon  the  top  bar  to  await  the  pass- 
ing of  the  mail,  and  began  to  indulge  in  a  magnifi- 


166  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

cent  air,  the  florid  character  of  which  he  rendered 
much  more  effective  than  the  composer  had  in- 
tended by  the  introduction  of  innumerable  flour- 
ishes of  his  own. 

It  was  while  thus  engaged,  and  in  the  middle  of 
a  tremendous  shake,  that  Mr.  Sudberry  suddenly 
became  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  man  not 
more  than  twenty  yards  distant.  He  was  lying 
down  on  the  embankment  beside  the  road,  and 
his  ragged  dress  of  muddy-brown  corduroy  so 
resembled  the  broken  ground  on  which  he  lay 
that  he  was  not  a  very  distinct  object,  even  when 
looked  at  point-blank.  Certainly  Mr.  Sudberry 
thought  him  an  extremely  disagreeable  object  as 
he  ended  in  an  ineffective  quaver  and  with  a  deep 
blush  ;  for  that  man  must  be  more  than  human, 
who,  when  caught  in  the  act  of  attempting  to 
perpetrate  an  amateur  concert  in  all  its  parts, 
does  not  feel  keenly. 

Being  of  a  sociable  disposition,  Mr.  Sudberry 
was  about  to  address  this  ill-favored  beggar  —  for 
such  he  evidently  was  —  when  the  coach  came 
round  a  distant  bend  in  the  road  at  full  gallop.  It 
was  the  ordinary  tall,  top-heavy  mail  of  the  first 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Being  a  poor  dis- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  167 

trict,  there  were  only  two  horses,  a  white  and  a 
black ;  but  the  driver  wore  a  stylish  red  coat,  and 
cracked  his  whip  smartly.  The  road  being  all 
down  hill  at  that  part,  the  coach  came  on  at  a 
spanking  pace,  and  pulled  up  with  a  crash. 

The  beggar  turned  his  face  to  the  ground,  and 
pretended  to  be  asleep. 

Mr.  Sudberry  noticed  this ;  but,  being  interested 
in  his  own  affairs,  soon  forgot  the  circumstance. 

"  Got  any  letters  for  me  to-day,  my  man  ?  " 

Oh,  yes,  he  has  letters  and  newspapers  too.  Mr. 
Sudberry  mutters  to  himself  as  they  are  handed 
down,  "  Capital  !  —  ha  !  —  business  ;  hum  !  —  pri- 
vate ;  ho  !  —  compasses ;  good  !  Any  more  ?  " 

There  are  no  more ;  but  there  is  a  parcel  or  two. 
The  coachman  gets  down  and  opens  the  door  of 
the  box  behind.  The  insides  peep  out,  and  the 
outsides  look  down  with  interest.  A  great  many 
large  and  heavy  things  are  pulled  out  and  laid  on 
the  road. 

Mr.  Sudberry  remarks  that  it  would  have  been 
"  wiser  to  have  stowed  his  parcels  in  front." 

The  coachman  observes  that  these  are  his  par- 
cels, shuts  the  door,  mounts  the  box,  and  drives 
away,  with  the  outsides  grinning  and  the  insides 


168  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

stretching  their  heads  out,  leaving  Mr.  Sudberry 
transfixed  and  staring. 

"'One  or  two  small  parcels/"  murmured  the 
good  man,  recalling  his  wife's  words ;  " '  and  mind 
you  bring  'em  up.'  One  salmon,  two  legs  of  mut- 
ton, one  ham,  three  dozen  of  beer,  a  cask  of —  of 
—  something  or  other,  and  a  bag  of — of — ditto 
(groceries,  I  suppose),  '  and  mind  you  bring  'em 
up ! '  How !  '  that  is  the  question ! ' "  cried  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, quoting  Hamlet,  in  desperation. 

Suddenly  he  recollected  the  beggar-man.  "  Hal- 
loo !  friend ;  come  hither." 

The  man  rose  slowly,  and  rising  did  not  improve 
his  appearance.  He  was  rather  tall,  shaggy,  loose- 
jointed,  long-armed,  broad-shouldered,  and  he 
squinted  awfully.  His  nose  was  broken,  and  his 
dark  color  bespoke  him  a  gypsy. 

"  Can  you  help  me  up  to  yonder  house  with  these 
things,  my  man  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  gruffly,  "  I'm  footsore  with 
travellin' ;  but  I'll  watch  them  here  while  you  go 
up  for  help." 

"  Oh !  ahem ! "  said  Mr.  Sudberry,  with  peculiar 
emphasis ;  "  you  seem  a  stout  fellow,  and  might  find 
more  difficult  ways  of  earning  half  a  crown.  How- 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  1G9 

ever,  I'll  give  you  that  sum  if  you  go  up  and  tell 
them  to  send  down  a  barrow." 

"I'll  wait  here,"  replied  the  man,  with  a  sar- 
castic grin,  limping  back  to  his  ibrmer  seat  on  the 
lank. 

" Oh !  very  well,  and  I  will  wait  here"  said  Mr. 
Sudberry,  seating  himself  on  a  large  stone,  and 
pulling  out  his  letters. 

Seeing  this,  the  gypsy  got  up  again,  and  looked 
cautiously  along  the  road,  first  to  the  right  and 
then  to  the  left.  No  human  being  was  in  sight. 
Mr.  Sudberry  observed  the  act,  and  felt  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  You'd  better  go  for  help,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
coming  forward. 

"  Thank  you,  I'd  rather  wait  for  it." 

"  This  seems  a  handy  sort  of  thing  to  carry," 
said  the  gypsy,  taking  up  the  sack  that  looked  lika 
groceries,  and  throwing  it  across  his  shoulder. 
"  I'll  save  you  the  trouble  of  taking  this  one  up, 
anyhow." 

He  went  off  at  once  at  a  sharp  walk,  and  with  no 
symptom  either  of  lameness  or  exhaustion.  Mr. 
Sudberry  was  after  him  in  a  moment.  The  man 
turned  rov,nd  and  faced  him. 


170  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Put  that  where  you  took  it  from  ! "  thundered 
Mr.  Sudberry. 

"  Oh !  you're  going  to  resist." 

The  gypsy  uttered  an  oath,  and  ran  at  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, intending  to  overwhelm  him  with  one  blow, 
and  rob  him  on  the  spot.  The  big  blockhead  little 
knew  his  man.  He  did  not  know  that  the  little 
Englishman  was  a  man  of  iron  frame  ;  he  only  re- 
garded him  as  a  fiery  little  gentleman.  Still  less 
did  he  know  that  Mr.  Sudberry  had  in  his  youth 
been  an  expert  boxer,  and  that  he  had  even  had 
the  honor  of  being  knocked  flat  on  his  back  more 
than  once  by  professional  gentlemen  —  in  an  ami- 
cable way,  of  course  —  at  four  and  sixpence  a 
lesson.  He  knew  nothing  of  all  this,  so  he  rushed 
blindly  on  his  fate,  and  met  it  —  that  is  to  say,  he 
met  Mr.  Sudberry's  left  fist  with  the  bridge  of  his 
nose,  and  his  right  with  the  pit  of  his  stomach ;  the 
surprising  result  of  which  was  that  the  gypsy  stag- 
gered back  against  the  wall. 

But  the  man  was  not  a  coward,  whatever  other 
bad  qualities  he  might  have  been  possessed  o£ 
Recovering  in  a  moment,  he  rushed  upon  his  little 
antagonist,  and  sent  in  two  sledge-hammer  blows 
with  such  violence  that  nothing  but  the  English- 


Three  HontJis'  Rustication.  171 

man's  activity  could  have  saved  him  ft  Dm  instant 
defeat.  He  ducked  to  the  first,  parried  the  second, 
and  returned  with  such  prompt  good- will  on  the 
gypsy's  right  eye,  that  he  was  again  sent  stagger- 
ing back  against  the  wall ;  from  which  point  of 
observation  he  stared  straight  before  him,  and 
beheld  Mr.  Sudberry  in  the  wildness  of  his  excite- 
ment, performing  a  species  of  Cherokee  war-dance 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Nothing  daunted,  how- 
ever, the  man  was  about  to  renew  his  assault, 
when  George  and  Fred,  all  ignorant  of  what  was 
going  on,  came  round  a  turn  of  the  road,  on  their 
way  to  see  what  was  detaining  their  father  with 
the  letters. 

"  Why,  that's  father ! "  cried  Fred. 

"  Fighting ! "  yelled  George. 

They  were  off  at  full  speed  in  a  moment.  The 
gypsy  gave  but  one  glance,  vaulted  the  wall,  and 
dived  into  the  underwood  that  lined  the  banks  of 
the  river.  He  followed  the  stream  a  few  hundred 
yards,  doubled  at  right  angles  on  his  course,  and  in 
ten  minutes  more  was  seen  crossing  over  a  shoulder 
of  the  hill,  like  a  mountain  hare. 


172  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  DREAM  AND   A  BALL. 

THAT  evening  Mr.  Sudberry,  having  spent  the 
day  in  a  somewhat  excited  state  —  having  swept 
every  thing  around  him,  wherever  he  moved,  with 
his  coat-tails,  as  with  the  besom  of  destruction  — 
having  despatched  a  note  to  the  nearest  constab- 
ulary station,  and  having  examined  the  bolts  and 
fastenings  of  the  windows  of  the  White  House  — 
sat  down  after  supper  to  read  the  newspaper,  and 
fell  fast  asleep,  with  his  head  hanging  over  the 
back  of  his  chair,  his  nose  turned  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing, and  his  mouth  wide  open.  His  loving  family 
—  minus  Tilly  and  Jacky,  who  were  abed  —  en- 
circled the  table,  variously  employed ;  and  George 
stood  at  his  elbow,  fastening  up  a  pair  of  book- 
shelves of  primitive  construction,  coupled  to- 
gether by  means  of  green  cord. 

While  thus  domestically  employed,  they  heard 
a  loud,  steady  thumping  outside.  The  Sudberrys 
were  well  acquainted  by  this  time  with  that  sound 


Three  Months'  Rustication*  173 

and  its  cause.  At  first  it  had  filled  Mrs.  S.  with 
great  alarm,  raising  in  her  feeble  mind  horrible 
reminiscences  of  tales  of  burglary  and  midnight 
murder.  After  suffering  inconceivable  torments 
of  apprehension  for  two  nights,  the  good  lady 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  insisted  on  her 
husband  going  out  to  see  what  it  could  be.  As 
the  sound  appeared  to  come  from  the  cottage,  or 
offshoot  from  the  White  House,  in  which  the 
McAllisters  lived,  he  naturally  went  there,  and 
discovered  that  the  noise  was  caused  by  the 
stoutest  of  the  two  servant-girls.  This  sturdy 
lass,  whose  costume  displayed  a  pair  of  enormous 
ankles  to  advantage,  and  exhibited  a  pair  of  arms 
that  might  have  made  a  prize-fighter  envious, 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  a 
large  iron  pot  before  her  and  a  thick  wooden  pin 
in  her  hands,  with  the  end  of  which  she  was, 
according  to  her  own  statement,  "  champin'  tat- 
ties." 

Mrs.  McAllister,  her  son,  Hugh  and  Dan,  and 
the  other  servant-girl,  were  seated  round  the 
walls  of  the  room,  watching  the  process  with 
deep  interest,  for  their  supper  was  in  that  pot. 
The  nine  dogs  weie  also  seated  round  the  room, 


174  Freaks  on  the  Fells;   or, 

watching  the  process  with  melancholy  interest; 
for  their  supper  was  not  in  that  pot,  and  they 
knew  it,  and  wished  it  was. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry,  on  returning  to 
the  parlor,  "  they  are  '  champing  tatties.' " 

"What?" 

" '  Champing  tatties ; '  in  other  words,  mashing 
potatoes,  which  it  would  seem,  with  milk,  con- 
stitute the  supper  of  the  family." 

Thus  was  Mrs.  Sudberry's  mind  relieved,  and 
from  that  night  forward  no  further  notice  was 
taken  of  the  sound. 

But  on  the  present  occasion  the  champing  of 
the  tatties  had  an  unwonted  effect  on  Mr.  Sud- 
berry. It  caused  him  to  dream,  and  his  dreams 
naturally  took  a  pugilistic  turn.  His  breathing 
became  quick  and  short;  his  face  began  to 
twitch;  and  Lucy  suggested  that  it  would  be 
as  weh1  to  "awake  papa,"  when  papa  suddenly 
awaked  himself,  and  hit  George  a  tremendous 
blow  on  the  shoulder. 

"Hallo!  father,"  cried  George  remonstratively, 
rubbing  the  assaulted  limb;  "really,  you  know, 
if  you  come  it  in  this  way  often,  you  will  alienate 
my  affections,  I  fear." 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  175 

"  My  dear  boy  !  —  what  ?  —  where  ?  Why,  I 
was  dreaming!" 

Of  course  he  was,  and  the  result  of  his  dream 
was  that  everybody  in  the  room  started  up  in 
surprise  and  excitement.  Thereafter  they  sat 
down  in  a  gay  and  very  talkative  humor.  Soon 
afterwards  a  curious  squeaking  was  heard  in  the 
adjoining  cottage,  and  another  thumping  sound 
began,  which  was  to  the  full  as  unremitting  as, 
and  much  more  violent  than,  that  caused  by 
"  champin'  tatties."  The  McAllister  household, 
having  supped,  were  regaling  themselves  with 
a  dance. 

"  What  say  to  a  dance  with  them  ? "  said 
George. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Lucy,  leaping  up. 

"  Capital ! "  shouted  Mr.  Sudberry,  clapping 
his  hands. 

A  message  was  sent  in.  The  reply  was,  "  hear- 
tily welcome ! "  and  in  two  minutes  Mr.  Sudberry 
and  stout  servant-girl  No.  1,  George  and  stout  girl 
No.  2,  Hugh  and  Lucy,  Dan  and  Hobbs  (the  latter 
consenting  to  act  as  girl  No.  3),  were  dancing  the 
Reel  o'Tullochgorum  like  maniacs,  to  the  inspiring 
BtraJns  of  McAllister's  violin,  while  Peter  sat  in  a 


176  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

corner  in  constant  dread  of  being  accidentally  sat 
down  upon.  Fred,  in  another  corner,  looked  on, 
laughed,  and  was  caressed  furiously  by  the  nine 
dogs.  Mrs.  Sudberry  talked  philosophy  in  the 
window,  with  grave,  earnest  Mrs.  McAllister, 
whose  placid  equanimity  was  never  disturbed,  but 
flowed  on,  broad  and  deep,  like  a  mighty  river,  and 
whose  interest  in  all  things,  small  and  great,  seemed 
never  to  flag  for  a  moment. 

The  room  in  which  all  this  was  going  on  was  of 
the  plainest  possible  description.  It  was  the  hall, 
the  parlor,  the  dining-room,  the  drawing-room,  and 
the  library  of  the  McAllister  Family.  Earth  was 
the  floor,  whitewashed  and  uneven  were  the  walls, 
non-existent  was  the  ceiling,  and  black  with  peat- 
smoke  were  the  rafters.  There  was  a  dresser, 
clean  and  white,  and  over  it  a  rack  of  plates  and 
dishes.  There  was  a  fire-place  —  a  huge  yawning 
gulf,  with  a  roaring  fire  (for  culinary  purposes  only, 
being  summer)  —  and  beside  it  a  massive  iron  gal- 
lows, on  which  to  hang  the  family  pot.  Said  pot 
was  a  caldron ;  so  big  was  it  that  there  was  a  spe- 
cies of  winch  and  a  chain  for  raising  and  lowering 
it  over  the  fire ;  in  fact,  a  complicated  sort  of  ma- 
chinery, mysterious  and  soot-begrimed,  towered 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  177 

into  the  dark  depths  of  the  ample  chimney.  There 
was  a  brown  cupboard  in  one  corner,  and  an  apo- 
plectic eight-day  clock  in  another.  A  small  book- 
shelf supported  the  family  Bible  and  several  an- 
cient and  much-worn  volumes.  Wooden  benches 
were  ranged  round  the  walls;  and  clumsy  chairs 
and  tables,  with  various  pails,  buckets,  luggies, 
troughs,  and  indescribable  articles,  completed  the 
furniture  of  the  picturesque  and  cosey  apartment. 
The  candle  that  lighted  the  whole  was  supported 
by  a  tall  wooden  candlestick,  whose  foot  rested  on 
the  ground,  and  whose  body,  by  a  simple  but 
clumsy  contrivance,  could  be  lengthened  or  short- 
ened at  pleasure,  from  about  three  to  five  feet. 

But  besides  all  this,  there  was  a  world  of  matg- 
riel  disposed  on  the  black  rafters  above  —  old  farm 
implements,  broken  furniture,  an  old  musket,  an  old 
claymore,  a  broken  spinning-wheel,  &c.,  all  of  which 
were  piled  up  and  so  mingled  with  the  darkness 
of  the  vault  above,  that  imagination  might  have 
deemed  the  spot  a  general  rendezvous  for  the  aged 
and  the  maimed  of  "  still  life." 

Fast  and  furious  was  the  dancing  that  night. 
Native  animal  spirits  did  it  all.  No  artificial  stim- 
ulants were  there.  "  Tatties  and  mulk  "  were  at 

12 


178  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair.  The  encounter  of 
that  forenoon  seemed  to  have  had  the  effect  of  re- 
calling the  spirit  of  his  youth  to  Mr.  Sudberry,  and 
his  effervescing  joviality  gave  tone  to  all  the  rest. 

"  Now,  Fred,  you  must  take  my  place,"  said  he, 
throwing  himself  in  an  exhausted  condition  on  a 
«  settle." 

"  But  perhaps  your  partner  may  want  a  rest  ?  " 
suggested  Fred. 

Lass  No.  1  scorned  the  idea :  so  Fred  began. 

"  Are  your  fingers  not  tired  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, wiping  his  bald  forehead,  which  glistened  as 
if  it  had  been  anointed  with  oil. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  McAllister  quietly. 

Not  yet !  If  the  worthy  Highlander  had  played 
straight  on  all  night  and  half  the  next  day,  he 
would  have  returned  the  same  answer  to  the  same 
question. 

"  You  spend  a  jolly  life  of  it  here,"  said  Mr.  Sud- 
berry to  Mrs.  McAllister. 

"  Ay,  a  pleasant  life,  no  doot ;  but  we're  not 
always  fiddling  and  dancing." 

"  True,  but  the  variety  of  herding  the  cattle  on 
these  splendid  hills  is  charming." 

"So  it  is,"   assented   Mrs.  McAllister;   "we've 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  179 

reason  to  be  contented  with  our  lot.  Maybe  ye 
would  grow  tired  of  it,  however,  if  ye  was  always 
here.  I'm  told  that  the  gentry  whiles  grow  tired 
of  their  braw  rooms,  and  take  to  plowterin'  aboot 
the  hills  and  burns  for  change.  Sometimes  they 
even  dance  wi'  the  servants  in  a  Highland  cot- 
tage ! " 

"  Ha  !  you  have  me  there,"  cried  Mr.  Sudberry, 
laughing. 

"  Let  me  sit  down,  pa,  pray  do ! "  cried  Lucy. 
Her  father  rose  quickly,  and  Lucy  dropped  into  his 
place  quite  exhausted. 

"  Come,  father,  relieve  me  !  "  cried  Fred.  "  I'm 
done  up,  and  my  partner  won't  give  in." 

To  say  truth,  it  seemed  as  if  the  said  partner 
(stout  lass  No.  1)  never  would  give  in  at  all.  From 
the  time  that  the  Sudberrys  entered  she  had  not 
ceased  to  dance  reel  after  reel,  without  a  minute 
of  breathing-time.  Her  countenance  was  like  the 
sun  in  a  fog ;  her  limbs  moved  as  deftly  and  untir- 
ingly, after  having  tired  out  father  and  son,  as  they 
did  when  she  began  the  evening;  and  she  now 
went  on,  with  a  quiet  smile  on  her  face,  evidently 
resolved  to  show  theii  English  guests  the  nature 
of  female  Highland  metal. 


180  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  the  dogs  suddenly  be* 
came  restive,  and  began  to  growl.  Soon  after,  a 
knock  came  to  the  door,  and  the  dogs  rushed  at  it, 
barking  violently.  Mr.  McAllister  went  out,  and 
found  that  a  company  of  wandering  beggars  had 
arrived,  and  prayed  to  be  allowed  to  sleep  in  the 
barn.  Unfortunate  it  was  for  them  that  they  came 
so  soon  after  Mr.  Sudberry's  unpleasant  rencounter 
with  one  of  their  fraternity.  The  good  man  of  the 
house,  although  naturally  humane  and  hospitable 
to  such  poor  wanderers,  was  on  the  present  occa- 
sion imbittered  against  them ;  so  he  ordered  them 
off. 

This  incident  brought  the  evening  to  an  abrupt 
termination,  as  it  was  incumbent  on  the  farmer  to 
see  the  intruders  safely  off  his  premises.  So  the 
Sudberrys  returned,  in  a  state  of  great  delight,  ex- 
citement, and  physical  warmth,  to  their  own  parlor. 

The  only  other  fact  worth  recording  in  regard  to 
this  event  is,  that  the  Sudberrys  were  two  hours 
late  foi  breikfast  next  morning ! 


Three  Mo-idhs1  Rustication.  181 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  EFFECTS  OF   COMPASSES 

THE  first  few  weeks  of  the  Sudberrys'  residence 
in  their  Highland  home  were  of  an  April  cast  — 
alternate  sunshine  and  shower.  Sometimes  they 
had  a  day  of  beaming  light  from  morning  till 
night;  at  other  times  they  had  a  day  of  unmiti- 
gated rain,  or,  as  Mr.  Sudberry  called  it,  "  a  day  of 
cats  and  dogs ; "  and  occasionally  they  had  a  day 
which  embraced  within  its  own  circuit  both  condi- 
tions of  weather  —  glorious  bursts  of  sunshine 
alternating  with  sudden  plumps  of  rain. 

Thus  far  the  weather  justified  and  strengthened 
the  diverse  opinions  of  both  husband  and  wife. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  my  love,  that  the  climate 
was  charming?"  was  Mr.  Sudberry's  triumphant 
remark  when  a  dazzling  blaze  of  light  would  roll 
over  flood  and  fell,  and  chase  the  clouds  away. 

"  There,  didn't  I  say  so  ? "  was  the  withering 
rejoinder  of  Mrs.  S.,  when  a  black  cloud  rolled 
over  the  sky  and  darkened  the  landscape  as  with  a 
wipe  of  ink. 


182  Freaks  on- the  Fells;  or, 

Hitherto  victory  leaned  decidedly  to  neither 
side,  the  smile  of  triumph  and  the  humbled  aspect 
of  defeat  rested  alternate  on  either  countenance, 
so  that  both  faces  taken  together  formed  a  sort  of 
contradictory  human  barometer,  which  was  not  a 
bad  one  —  at  all  events  it  was  infinitely  superior 
to  that  instrument  of  the  banjo  type  which  Mr. 
Sudberry  was  perpetually  tapping  in  order  to 
ascertain  whether  or  not  its  tendencies  were  drop- 
sical. 

When  father  was  up  at  "  set  fair,"  mother  was 
certain  to  be  depressed,  inclining  to  much  rain ; 
yet,  strangely  enough,  it  was  on  such  occasions 
very  dry!  When  mother  was  "fair"  (barometri- 
cally speaking,  of  course),  father  was  naturally 
down  at  "  changeable  "  !  Yet  there  was  wonderful 
contradiction  in  the  readings  of  this  barometer; 
for,  when  mother's  countenance  indicated  "  much 
rain,"  father  sometimes  went  down  to  "  stormy," 
and  the  tails  of  his  coat  became  altogether  unman- 
ageable. 

But,  towards  the  middle  of  the  holidays,  father 
gained  a  decided  victory.  For  three  weeks  to- 
gether they  had  not  a  drop  of  rain  —  scarcely  a 
cloud  in  the  sky ;  and  mother,  although  fairly 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  183 

beaten  and  obliged  to  confess  that  it  was  indeed 
splendid  weather,  met  her  discomfiture  with  a 
good  grace,  and  enjoyed  herself  extremely  in 
a  quiet  way. 

During  this  bright  period  the  Suiberry  Family, 
cue  and  all,  went  ahead,  as  George  said,  "  at  a 
tremendous  pace."  The  compasses  having  arrived, 
Mr.  Sudberry  no  longer  laid  restrictions  on  the 
wandering  propensities  of  his  flock;  but,  having 
given  a  compass  to  each,  and  taught  them  all  the 
use  of  it,  sent  them  abroad  upon  the  unexplored 
ocean  of  hills  without  fear.  Even  Jacky  received 
a  compass,  with  strict  injunctions  to  take  good  care 
of  it.  Being  naturally  of  an  inquiring  disposition, 
he  at  once  took  it  to  pieces,  and  this  so  effectually 
that  he  succeeded  in  analyzing  it  into  a  good  many 
more  pieces  than  its  fabricator  had  ever  dreamed  of. 
To  put  it  together  again  would  have  taxed  the 
ingenuity  of  the  same  fabricator  —  no  wonder  that 
it  was  beyond  the  power  of  Jacky  altogether.  But 
this  mattered  nothing  to  the  "  little  darling,"  as  he 
did  not  understand  his  father's  learned  explanation 
of  the  uses  of  the  instrument.  To  do  Mr.  Sud- 
berry justice,  he  had  not  expected  that  his  boy 
could  understand  him;  but  he  was  aware  that  if 


184  Freaks  on  the  Fetts ;  or, 

he,  Jacky,  did  not  get  a  compass  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  them,  tLere  would  be  no  peace  in  the  White 
House  during  that  season.  Moreover,  Jacky  did 
not  care  whether  he  shouli  get  lost  or  not.  In 
fact,  he  rather  relished  it;  for  he  knew  that  it 
would  create  a  pleasant  excitement  for  a  time  in 
the  household,  and  he  entertained  the  firm  belief 
that  McAllister  and  his  men  could  find  any  creature 
on  the  hills,  man  or  beast,  no  matter  how  hopelessly 
it  should  be  lost. 

There  being,  then,  no  limit  to  the  wanderings  of 
the  Sudberrys,  they  one  and  all  gave  themselves 
over  deliberately  to  a  spirit  of  riotous  rambling. 
Of  course  they  all,  on  various  occasions,  lost  them- 
selves, despite  the  compasses  ;  but,  having  become 
experienced  mountaineers,  they  always  took  good 
care  to  find  themselves  again  before  sunset. 
George  and  Fred  candidly  declared  that  they  pre- 
ferred to  steer  by  "  dead  reckoning,"  and  left  their 
compasses  at  home.  Lucy  always  carried  hers, 
and  frequently  consulted  it,  especially  when  in  her 
father's  presence,  for  she  was  afflicted,  poor  girl, 
with  that  unfashionable  weakness,  an  earnest  de- 
sire to  please  her  father  even  in  trifles.  Neverthe- 
less, she  privately  confided  to  Fred  one  dar  that 


Three  Mont/is'  Rustication.  185 

ehe  was  often  extremely  puzzled  by  her  compass, 
and  that  she  had  grave  doubts  as  to  whether,  on  a 
certain  occasion,  when  she  had  gone  for  a  long 
ramble  with  Hector  and  Flora  Macdonald,  and 
been  lost,  the  blame  of  that  disaster  was  not  due 
to  her  compass.  Fred  said  he  thought  it  was,  and 
believed  that  it  would  be  the  means  of  compassing 
her  final  disappearance  from  the  face  of  the  earth 
if  she  trusted  to  it  so  much. 

As  for  Mr.  Sudberry  himself,  his  faith  in  the 
compass  was  equal  to  that  of  any  mariner.  The 
worthy  man  was,  or  believed  himself  to  be,  (which 
is  the  same  thing,  you  know  !)  of  profoundly  scien- 
tific tendencies.  He  was  aware,  of  course,  that  he 
had  never  really  studied  any  science  whatever ; 
but  he  had  dabbled  in  a  number  of  them,  and  he  felt 
that  he  had  immense  capacity  for  deep  thought  and 
subtle  investigation.  His  mind  was  powerfully 
analytical  —  that's  what  it  was.  One  consequenco 
of  this  peculiarity  of  mind  was  that  he  "  took  his 
bearings  "  on  short  and  known  distances,  as  well  as 
on  long  venturesome  rambles ;  he  tested  himself 
and  his  compass,  as  it  were. 

One  iay  he  had  walked  out  alone  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  village,  four  miles  distant  from  the 


186  freaks  on  the  fells;  or, 

White  House,  whence  the  family  derived  their  sup- 
plies. He  had  set  out  with  his  rod  (he  never 
walked  near  the  river  without  his  rod),  intending 
to  take  a  cast  in  what  he  styled  the  "  lower 
pools."  By  degrees  he  fished  so  near  to  the  village 
that  he  resolved  to  push  forward  and  purchase  a 
few  books.  Depositing  rod  arid  basket  among  the 
bushes,  he  walked  smartly  along  the  road,  having 
previously,  as  a  matter  of  course,  taken  his  bear- 
ings from  the  village  by  compass.  A  flock  of 
sheep  met  him,  gazed  at  him  in  evident  surprise, 
and  passed  on.  At  their  heels  came  the  collie  dog, 
with  his  tongue  out.  It  bestowed  a  mild,  intelli- 
gent glance  on  the  stranger,  and  also  passed  on. 
Close  behind  the  dog  came  the  shepherd,  with 
plaid  bonnet  and  thick  stick. 

"  A  fine  day,  friend,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry. 

"  Oo,  ay,  it  is  a  fine  day." 

He  also  passed  on. 

Another  turn  in  the  road,  and  Mr.  Sudberry  met 
a  drove  of  shaggy  cattlo,  each  cow  of  which  looked 
sturdy  and  fierce  enough  for  any  ordinary  bull; 
while  the  bull  himself  was  something  awful  to  look 
upon.  There  is  nothing  ladylike  or  at  all  feminine 
in  the  aspent  cf  a  Highland  cow  ! 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  187 

Mi.  Sudberry  politely  stepped  to  one  side,  and 
made  way  for  them.  Many  of  the  animals  paused 
for  an  instant,  and  gazed  at  the  Englishman  with 
profound  gravity,  and  then  went  on  their  way  with 

an   air  that   showed   they  evidently  could   make 

* 
nothing  of  him.     The  drover  thought  otherwise, 

for  he  stopped. 

"  Coot-tay  to  you,  sir." 

"  Good-day,  friend,  good-day.  Splendid  weathe* 
for  the  —  for  the  "  —  Mr.  Sudberry  did  not  know 
exactly  for  which  department  of  agriculture  the 
weather  was  most  favorable,  so  he  said  — "  for  the 
cattle." 

"  Oo,  ay,  the  w'ather's  no  that  ill.  Can  she  telf 
the  time  o'  day  ?  " 

Out  came  the  compass. 

"  West-nor-west,  and  by  —  Oh  !  I  beg  your  par- 
don (pulling  out  his  watch  and  replacing  the  com- 
pass), a  quarter-past  two." 

The  drover  passed  on,  and  Mr.  Sudberry,  chuck- 
ling at  his  mistake,  took  the  bearings  of  a  tall  pine 
that  grew  on  a  distant  knoll. 

On  gaining  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  Mr.  Sud- 
berry felt  a  sensation  of  hunger,  and  instantly 
resolved  to  purchase  a  bun,  which  article  he  had 


J88  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

now  learned  to  call  by  its  native  name  of  "cookie." 
At  the  same  instant  a  bright  idea  struck  him — • 
he  would  steer  for  the  baker's  shop  by  compass ! 
He  knew  the  position  of  the  shop  exactly  —  the 
milestone  gave  him  the  distance  —  he  would  lay 
his  course  for  it.  He  would  walk  conscientiously 
with  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  except  when  it  was> 
necessary  to  refer  to  the  compass,  and  he  would 
not  raise  them  until  he  stood  within  the  shop.  It 
would  be  a  triumphant  exhibition  of  the  practical 
purposes,  in  a  small  way,  to  which  the  instrument 
might  be  applied. 

Full  of  this  idea,  he  took  a  careful  observation 
of  the  compass,  the  sun,  and  surrounding  nature; 
laid  his  course  for  the  baker's  shop,  which  was  on 
the  right  side  of  the  village,  and  walked  straight 
into  the  butcher's,  which  lay  on  its  left  extremity. 
He  was  so  much  put  out  on  lifting  his  eyes  to 
those  of  the  butcher,  that  he  ordered  a  leg  of  mut- 
ton and  six  pounds  of  beefsteaks  on  the  spot.  The 
moment  after  he  recollected  that  two  legs  of  mut- 
ton and  a  round  of  beef  had  been  forwarded  to  the 
White  Ho"se  by  coach  the  day  before,  and  that 
there  vas  a  poached  brace  of  moor-fowl  in  the  lar- 
der at  that  moment ;  but,  having  given  the  order 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  189 

in  a  prompt,  business  tone  of  voice,  he  felt  thai  he 
lacked  moral  courage  to  rescind  it. 

"  Ye'll  ha'e  frien's  comin'  to  veesit  ye,"  observed 
the  butcher,  who  was  gifted  with  a  peculiar  and 
far-sighted  faculty  of  "  putting  that  and  that  to- 
gether." 

"  No ;  we  have  no  immediate  prospect  of  such  a 
pleasure." 

"  Ay  ?  Hum  !  it's  wonderfu'  what  an  appeteet 
the  hill  air  gives  to  strangers." 

"A  tremendous  appetite  !     Good-day,  friend." 

Mr.  Sudberry  said  this  heartily,  and  went  off  to 
the  baker's — by  dead  reckoning  —  discomfited  but 
chuckling. 

The  butcher  pondered  and  philosophized  over 
the  subject  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  with 
much  curiosity,  but  with  no  success.  Had  the 
wisdom  of  Plato  been  mingled  with  his  Scotch 
philosophy,  the  compound  reduced  to  an  essen- 
tial oil  of  investigative  profundity,  and  brought  to 
bear  on  the  subject  in  question,  he  would  have 
signally  failed  to  discover  the  reason  of  the  Sud- 
berrys'  larder  being  crammed  that  week  with  an 
unreasonable  quantity  of  butcher-meat. 

Yes  !  during  these  three  weeks  of  sunshine  the 


190  Freaks  on  Hie  Fells;  or, 

Sudberrys  made  hay  of  their  time  as  diligently  as 
the  McAllisters  made  hay  of  their  grass,  and  the 
compasses  played  a  prominent  part  in  all  their 
doings,  and  led  them  into  many  scrapes.  Among 
other  things,  they  led  them  to  Glen  Ogle.  More 
of  this  in  the  next  chapter. 


Three  Montlis*  Rustication.  191 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    TRIP    TO    GLEN    OGLE. 

WITHOUT  entering  into  minute  comparisons,  it 
may  be  truly  said  that  Glen  Ogle  is  one  of  the 
grandest  and  wildest  of  mountain  passes  in  the 
highlands  of  Perthshire.  Unlike  the  Trosachs, 
which  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  immortalized  in  his 
"  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  Glen  Ogle  is  a  wild,  rugged, 
rocky  pass,  almost  entirely  destitute  of  trees,  ex- 
cept at  its  lower  extremity ;  and  of  shrubs,  ex- 
cept along  the  banks  of  the  little  burn  which 
meanders  like  a  silver  thread  down  the  centre  of 
the  glen.  High  precipitous  mountains  rise  on 
either  hand  —  those  on  the  left  being  .more 
rugged  and  steep  than  those  on  the  right.  The 
glen  is  very  narrow  throughout  —  a  circumstance 
which  adds  to  its  wildness ;  and  which,  in  gloomy 
weather,  imparts  to  the  spot  a  truly  savage 
aspect.  Masses  of  debris  and  fallen  rocks  lino 
the  base  of  the  precipices,  or  speckle  the  sides 
of  the  mountains  in  places  where  the  slopes, 


192  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or. 

being  less  precipitous  than  elsewhere,  have 
served  to  check  the  fallen  matter;  and  the 
whole  surface  of  the  narrow  vale  is  dotted  with 
rocks  of  various  sizes,  which  have  bounded  from 
the  cliffs,  and,  overleaping  every  obstacle,  have 
found  a  final  resting-place  on  a  level  with  the 
little  stream. 

The  road  follows  the  course  of  the  stream  at 
the  foot  of  the  glen;  but,  as  it  advances,  it 
ascends  the  mountains  on  the  right,  and  runs 
along  their  sides  until  the  head  of  the  pass  is 
gained.  Here  it  crosses,  by  means  of  a  rude 
stone  bridge,  a  deep  chasm,  at  the  bottom  of 
which  the  waters  of  the  burn  leap  and  roar 
among  chaotic  rocks  —  a  foretaste  of  the  innu- 
merable rushes,  leaps,  tumbles,  and  plunges, 
which  await  them  all  down  the  glen.  Just 
beyond  this  bridge  is  a  small  level  patch  of 
mingled  rocky  and  mossy  ground.  It  is  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  ridge ;  yet  the  highest 
peaks  rise  above  it,  and  so  hem  it  in  that  it 
resembles  the  arena  of  a  rude  amphitheatre.  In 
the  centre  of  this  spot  lies  a  clear,  still  lake,  or 
tarn,  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  in  diameter. 
This  is  the  fountain-head  of  two  streams.  From 


Three  Hontlis1  Rustication.  193 

the  pools  and  springs,  within  a  stone's  cast  of 
the  tarn,  arise  the  infant  waters  of  the  burn 
already  mentioned,  which,  descending  Glen  Ogle, 
find  their  way  to  the  Frith  of  Tay,  through 
Strath  Earn.  From  the  opposite  side  of  the 
tarn  issues  another  brook,  which,  leaping  down 
the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  mingles  its 
waters  with  Loch  Tay,  and  finds  its  way,  by  a 
much  more  circuitous  route,  to  the  same  frith. 
The  whole  region  is  desolate  and  lonely  in  the 
extreme,  and  so  wild  that  a  Rocky  Mountain 
hunter,  transported  thither  by  fairy  power, 
might  find  himself  quite  at  home,  except  in 
the  matter  of  big-horned  goats  and  grisly  bears. 
But,  for  the  matter  of  that,  he  would  find  moun- 
tain sheep  with  very  respectable  horns  in  their 
way ;  and,  as  to  bears,  the  hill-sides  are  bare 
enough  to  satisfy  any  hunter  of  moderate  ex- 
pectations. 

Up  to  this  elevated  tarn,  among  the  hoary  moun- 
tain peaks,  the  Sudberry  Family  struggled  one  hot, 
sunny,  lovely  forenoon.  Bent  on  a  long  and  bold 
flight,  they  had  travelled  by  the  stage-coach  to  the 
foot  of  the  glen,  near  the  head  of  Loch  Earn. 
Here  they  were  deposited  at  the  door  of  a  pictu 

18 


194  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

resque  white-washed  house,  which  was  styled  the 
Inn,  and  from  this  point  they  toiled  up  the  glen  on 
foot,  intoxicating  themselves  on  the  way  with  deep 
draughts  of  mingled  excitement,  fresh  air,  and  ro- 
mance. 

The  whole  family  were  out  upon  this  occasion, 
including  Mrs.  Brown,  Hobbs,  and  Peter.  The 
delicate  Tilly  was  also  there,  and  to  her  Mas- 
ter Jacky  devoted  himself  with  an  assiduity  wor- 
thy of  even  a  good  boy.  He  took  occasion  several 
times,  however,  to  tell  Peter,  in  a  grave  way,  that 
whenever  he  felt  tired  he  would  be  glad  to  carry 
his  basket  for  him,  and  himself  too,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  if  he  should  get  quite  knocked  up.  He 
indemnified  himself  for  these  concessions  on  the 
side  of  virtue  by  inflicting  various  little  torments 
on  the  bodies  and  minds  of  Mrs.  Brown  and  his 
mother,  such  as  hiding  himself  at  some  distance 
ahead,  and  suddenly  darting  out  from  behind  a 
rock  with  a  hideous  yell;  or  coming  up  behind 
with  eyes  staring  and  hair  flying,  and  screaming 
"  mad  bull "  with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs. 

Hector  and  Flora  Macdonald  were  also  of  the 
party.  George  and  Fred  were  particularly  atten- 
ti^e  to  Flora,  and  Hector  was  ditto  to  Lucy.  He 


Tliree  Months'  llustication.  195 

carried  her  botanical  box,  and  gave  her  a  good 
deal  of  information  in  regard  to  plants  and  wild 
flowers,  in  which  Lucy  professed  a  deep  interest, 
insomuch  that  she  stopped  frequently  to  gather 
specimens  and  listen  to  Hector's  learned  observa- 
tions, until  they  were  more  than  once  left  a  consid- 
erable way  behind  the  rest  of  the  party.  Indeed, 
Lucy's  interest  in  science  was  so  great  that  she 
unwittingly  pulled  two  or  three  extremely  rare 
specimens  to  pieces  while  listening  to  these  elo- 
quent discourses,  and  was  only  made  conscious  of 
her  wickedness  by  a  laughing  remark  from  Hector 
that  she  "  must  surely  have  the  bump  of  destruc- 
tiveness  largely  developed." 

Arrived  at  the  tarn,  each  individual  deposited 
his  and  her  basket  or  bundle  on  a  selected  spot  of 
dry  ground,  and  the  ladies  began  to  spread  out  the 
viands,  while  Mr.  Sudberry  took  the  exact  bearings 
of  the  spot  by  compass.  While  thus  philosophi- 
cally engaged,  he  observed  that  fish  were  rising  in 
the  tarn. 

"  Hallo  !  Hector ;  why,  I  see  fish  in  the  pond." 

"  True,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  plenty  of 
trout;  but  they  are  small." 

"I'll  fish,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry. 


196  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  So  will  I,"  cried  George. 

And  fish  they  did  for  half  an  hour,  at  the  end  of 
which  period  they  were  forcibly  torn  away  from 
the  water-side  and  made  to  sit  down  and  eat  sand- 
wiches—  having  caught  between  them  two  dozen 
of  trout,  the  largest  of  which  was  about  five  inches 
long. 

"  Why,  how  did  ever  the  creatures  get  up  into 
such  a  lake  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Sudberry,  eying  the 
trout  in  surprise  :  "  they  could  never  jump  up  all 
the  waterfalls  that  we  have  passed  to-day." 

"  I  suppose  they  were  born  in  the  lake,"  sug- 
gested Hector,  with  a  smile. 

"Born  in  it?"  murmured  Mr.  Sudberry,  ponder- 
ing the  idea ;  "  but  the  first  ones  could  not  have 
been  born  in  it.  How  did  the  first  ones  get 
there?" 

"The  same  way  as  what  the  first  fishes  came 
into  the  sea,  of  course,"  said  Jacky,  looking  very 
pompous. 

Unfortunately  he  unintentionally  tried  to  per- 
form that  impossible  feat  which  is  called  swallow- 
ing a  crumb  down  the  wrong  throat,  thereby 
nearly  choking  himself,  and  throwing  his  mother 
into  a  flutter  of  agitation. 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  197 

There  was  something  so  exhilarating  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  that  elevated  region  that  none  of  the 
party  felt  inclined  to  waste  much  time  over  lunch- 
eon.  Mr.  Sudberry,  in  particular,  was  very  rest- 
less and  migratory.  His  fishing  propensities  had 
been  aroused,  and  could  not  be  quieted.  He  had, 
in  the  course  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  gobbled 
what  he  deemed  it  his  duty  to  eat  and  drink,  and, 
during  the  remainder  of  the  meal,  had  insisted  on 
helping  everybody  to  every  thing,  moving  about  as 
he  did  so,  and  thereby  causing  destruction  to  vari- 
ous articles  of  crockery.  At  last  he  declared  that 
he  was  off  to  fish  down  the  burn,  and  that  the  rest 
of  the  party  would  pick  him  up  on  their  way  back 
to  the  coach,  which  was  to  start  from  the  inn  at 
Loch  Earn  Head  at  five  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Now  don't  be  late,"  said  he ;  "  be  at  the  inn  by 
half-past  four  precisely." 

"  Ay,  ay ;  yes,  yes,"  from  everybody ;  and  away 
he  went  alone  to  enjoy  his  favorite  sport. 

The  rest  of  the  party  scattered.  Some  went  to 
good  points  for  •  sketching,  some  to  botanize,  and 
others  to  ascend  the  highest  of  the  neighboring 
peaks.  Mrs.  Brown  and  Hobbs  were  left  in 
charge  of  the  debris  of  luncheon,  to  the  eating 


198  Frealts  on  the  Fells;  or 

up  of  which  they  at  once  devoted  themselves 
with  the  utmost  avidity  as  soon  as  the  others  were 
gone. 

"  Come,  this  is  wot  I  calls  comfortable,"  said 
Hobbs.  (He  spoke  huskily,  through  an  immense 
mouthful  of  sandwich.)  "Ain't  it,  Mrs.  Brown?" 

"  Humph !  "  said  Mrs.  Brown. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  Mrs.  Brown  was  out  of 
temper  —  not  that  that  was  an  unusual  thing;  but 
she  had  found  the  expedition  more  trying  than  she 
had  anticipated,  and  the  torments  of  mind  and 
body  to  which  Jacky  had  subjected  her  were  of 
an  uncommonly  irritating  nature. 

"  Wot,"  continued  Hobbs,  attacking  a  cold 
tongue,  "  d'you  think  of  the  natives  of  this  'ere 
place  ?  " 

"  Nothink  at  all,"  was  Mrs.  Brown's  prompt  re- 
joinder. 

Hobbs,  who  was  naturally  of  a  jolly,  sociable 
disposition,  felt  a  little  depressed  at  Mrs.  Brown's 
repellent  manner ;  so  he  changed  his  mode  of  ad- 
dress. 

"  Try  some  of  this  'ere  fowl,  Mrs.  Brown,  it's 
remarkably  tender,  it  is ;  just  suited  to  the  tender 
lips  of — dear  me,  Mrs.  Brown,  how  improvin'  the 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  199 

mountain  hair  is  to  your  complexion,  if  I  may  wen- 
ture  to  speak  of  improvin'  that  w'ich  is  perfect 
already." 

"  Get  along,  Hobbs ! "  said  Mrs.  Brown,  affecting 
to  be  displeased. 

"  My  dear,  I'm  gettin'  along  like  a  game  chicken, 
perhaps  I  might  say  like  Dan,  who's  got  the  most 
uncommon  happetite  as  I  ever  did  see.  He's  a 
fine  fellow,  Dan  is,  ain't  he,  Mrs.  Brown  ?  " 

"  Brute,"  said  Mrs.  Brown ;  "  they're  all  brutes." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Hobbs,  shaking  his  head,  "  strong 
language,  Mrs.  Brown.  But,  admitting  that  (merely 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  of  course),  you  cannot 
deny  that  they  are  raither  clever  brutes." 

"  I  do  deny  it,"  retorted  Mrs.  Brown,  taking  a 
savage  bite  out  of  the  leg  of  a  chicken,  as  if  it 
represented  the  whole  Celtic  race.  "  Don't  they 
talk  the  most  arrant  stuff?  —  specially  that  McAl- 
lister, who  is  forever  speakin'  about  things  that  he 
don't  understand,  and  that  nobody  else  does  ! " 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  ma'am, "  said  Hobbs,  draw- 
ing himself  up  with  as  much  dignity  as  was  com- 
patible with  a  sitting  posture. 

"  I  do  epeak  for  myself.  Moreover,  I  speak  for 
some  whom  I  might  name,  and  who  ain't  very  far 
away." 


200  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  If,  ma'am,  you  mean  that  insinuation  to  ar> 

ply"- 

"  I  make  no  insinivations.  Hand  me  that  pot  of 
jam  —  no,  the  unopened  one." 

Hobbs  did  as  he  was  required  with  excruciating 
politeness,  and  thereafter  took  refuge  in  dignified 
silence ;  suffering,  however,  an  expression  of  lofty 
scorn  to  rest  on  his  countenance.  Mrs.  Brown 
observed  this,  and  her  irate  spirit  was  still  further 
chafed  by  it.  She  meditated  giving  utterance  to 
some  withering  remarks,  while,  with  agitated  fin- 
gers, she  untied  the  string  of  the  little  pot  of  cran- 
berry-jam. "Worthy  Mrs.  Brown  was  particularly 
fond  of  cranberry-jam.  She  had  put  up  this  pot  in 
her  own  basket  expressly  for  her  own  private  use. 
She  now  opened  it  with  the  determination  to  enjoy 
it  to  the  full,  to  smack  her  lips  very  much  and  fre- 
quently, and  offer  none  of  it  to  Hobbs.  When  the 
cover  was  removed  she  gazed  into  the  pot  with  a 
look  of  intense  horror,  uttered  a  piercing  shriek, 
and  fell  back  in  a  dead  faint. 

This  extraordinary  result  is  easily  accounted  for. 
Almost  every  human  being  has  one  grand  special 
loathing.  There  is  everywhere  some  creature 
which  to  some  individual  is  an  object  of  dread  —  a 


Three  MontJis'  Rustication.  201 

creature  to  be  shrunk  from  and  shuddered  at. 
Mrs.  Brown's  horror  was  frogs.  Jacky  knew  thia 
well.  He  also  knew  of  Mrs.  B.'s  love  for  cran- 
berry-jam, and  her  having  put  up  a  special  pot. 
To  abstract  the  pot,  replace  it  by  a  similar  pot  with 
a  live  frog  imprisoned  therein,  and  then  retire  to 
chuckle  in  solitude  and  devour  the  jam,  was  sim- 
ple and  natural.  That  the  imp  had  done  this ;  that 
he  had  watched  with  delight  the  deceived  woman 
pant  up  Glen  Ogle  with  the  potted  frog  on  her  arm 
and  perspiration  on  her  brow;  that  he  had  asked 
for  a  little  cranberry-jam  on  the  way,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  countenance  that  almost  betrayed  him  ; 
and  that  he  had  almost  shrieked  with  glee  when  he 
observed  the  anxiety  with  which  Mrs.  Brown  — 
having  tripped  and  fallen  —  opened  her  basket  and 
smiled  to  observe  that  the  pot  was  not  broken; 
that  the  imp,  we  say,  had  been  guilty  of  all  this 
was  known  only  to  himself,  but  much  of  it  became 
apparent  to  the  mind  of  Hobbsr  when,  on  Mrs. 
Brown's  fainting,  he  heard  a  yell  of  triumph,  and,  on 
looking  up,  beheld  Master  Jacky  far  up  the  heights, 
clearly  defined  against  the  bright  sky,  and  cele- 
brating the  success  of  his  plot  with  a  maniacal  edi- 
t/'jn  of  the  Highland  fling. 


202  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

At  a  quarter-past  four  all  the  party  assembler! 
at  the  inn  except  Mr.  Sudberry. 

Five  arrived  —  no  Mr.  Sudberry.  The  coach 
could  not  wait  1  The  gentlemen,  in  despair 
rushed  up  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  found  hin 
fishing,  in  a  glow  of  excitement,  with  his  basket 
and  all  his  pockets  full  of  splendid  trout. 

The  result  was  that  the  party  had  to  return 
home  in  a  large  wagon,  and  it  was  night  when 
at  last  they  embarked  in  their  boat  and  rowed 
down  their  own  lake.  It  was  a  profound  calm. 
The  air  was  mild  and  balmy.  There  was  just 
enough  of  light  to  render  the  surrounding  moun- 
tains charmingly  mysterious,  and  the  fatigues  of 
the  day  made  the  repose  of  the  boat  agreeable. 
Even  Mrs.  Sudberry  enjoyed  that  romantic  night- 
trip  on  the  water.  It  was  so  dark  that  there 
was  a  tendency  to  keep  silence  on  landing  —  to 
speak  in  low  tones ;  but  a  little  burst  of  delight 
broke  forth  when  they  surmounted  the  dark  shoul- 
der of  the  hill,  and  came  at  last  in  sight  of  the 
windows  of  the  White  House,  glowing  a  ruddy 
welcome  home. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  203 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

TUB   FAMILY   GO    TO   CHURCH   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES. 

IT  would  seem  to  be  a  well-understood  and 
undeniable  fact  that  woman  invariably  gains  the 
victory  over  man  in  the  long-run;  and  even 
when  she  does  not  prove  to  be  the  winner,  she 
is  certain  to  come  off  the  conqueror.  It  is  well 
that  it  should  be  so.  The  reins  of  the  world 
could  not  be  in  better  hands ! 

But,  strangely  enough,  woman  triumphs,  not 
only  in  matters  over  which  she  and  man  have, 
more  or  less,  united  control,  but  even  in  matters 
with  which  the  human  race  cannot  interfere. 
For  instance,  in  regard  to  weather —  despite  the 
three  weeks  of  unfailing  sunshine,  Mrs.  Sudberry 
maintained  her  original  opinion,  that,  notwith- 
standing appearances  being  against  her,  the 
weather  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  was,  as  a 
rule,  execrable.  As  if  to  justify  this  opinion, 
the  weather  suddenly  changed,  and  the  three 
weeks  of  sunshine  were  followed  by  six  weeks 
of  rain. 


204  Freaks  on  the  Fdls ;  or, 

Whether  there  was  something  unusual  in  the 
season  or  not,  we  cannot  positively  say ;  b  at  cer- 
tain it  is  that  for  the  period  we  have  named 
it  rained  incessantly,  with  the  exception  of  four 
days.  During  a  great  part  of  the  time  it  rained 
from  morning  till  night.  Sometimes  it  was  in- 
termittent, and  came  down  in  devastating  floods. 
At  other  times  it  came  in  the  form  of  Scotch 
mist,  which  is  simply  small  rain,  so  plentiful  that 
it  usually  obliterates  the  whole  landscape,  and 
so  penetrating  that  it  percolates  through  every 
thing  except  water-proof.  It  was  a  question 
which  was  the  more  wetting  species  of  rain  — 
the  thorough  down-pour  or  the  heavy  mist.  But 
whether  it  poured  or  permeated,  there  was  never 
any  change  in  the  leaden  sky  during  these  six 
weeks,  and  the  mountains  were  never  clearly 
seen  except  during  the  four  accidental  days 
already  referred  to. 

At  first  Mrs.  Sudberry  triumphed ;  but  long 
before  that  season  was  over  she  had  reached 
such  a  condition  of  humility  that  she  would  have 
actually  rejoiced  in  a  fine  day. 

As  for  the  rest  of  the  family,  they  bore  up 
against  it  bravely  for  a  time.  On  the  first  day  of 


Three  Montlis   Rustication.  205 

this  wet  season,  they  were  rather  pleased  than 
otherwise  to  be  obliged  to  stay  in  the  house. 
Jacky,  in  particular,  was  delighted,  as  it  afforded 
him  a  glorious  opportunity  of  doing  mischief,  and 
making  himself  so  disagreeable,  that  all,  except  his 
mother,  felt  as  if  they  hated  him.  On  the  second 
day,  indoor  games  of  various  kinds  were  proposed 
and  entered  into  with  much  spirit.  On  the  third 
day  the  games  were  tried  again,  with  less  spirit. 
On  the  fourth  day  they  were  played  without  any 
spirit  at  all,  and  on  the  fifth  they  were  given  up  in 
disgust.  The  sixth  day  was  devoted  to  reading 
and  sulking,  and  thus  they  ended  that  week. 

The  seventh  day,  which  chanced  to  be  Sunday, 
was  one  of  the  four  fine  days  before  mentioned. 
The  sky  was  blue,  the  sun  intensely  bright,  and  the 
inundated  earth  was  steaming.  The  elastic  spirits 
of  the  family  recovered. 

"  Come,  we'll  walk  to  church ! "  cried  Mr.  Sud- 
berry,  as  they  rose  from  breakfast. 

"  What,  my  dear !  "  exclaimed  his  wife,  "  and  the 
roads  knee-deep  in  mud  and  water ! " 

"  I  care  not  if  they  were  waist-deep  ! "  cried  the 
reckless  man :  "  I've  been  glued  to  my  seat  for  a 
week ;  so  I'll  walk  to  church,  if  I  should  have  to 
swim  for  it." 


206  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  So  will  I !  so  will  I ! "  from  George  and  Fred ; 
"  So  will  we  all !  "  from  Lucy ;  "  And  me,  too  !  " 
timidly,  from  Tilly ;  with  "  Hurrah !  "  furiously  from 
the  imp,  —  this  decided  the  business. 

"  Very  well ! "  said  the  resigned  mother  of  the 
flock ;  "  then  I  will  go  too  ! " 

So  away  they  went  to  church,  through  mud  and 
mire  and  water,  with  the  nine  collie  dogs  at  theii 
heels,  and  Mr.  McAllister  bearing  them  company. 

Fred  and  McAllister  walked  together  in  rear  of 
the  rest,  conversing  earnestly,  for  the  latter  was 
learned  in  theology,  and  the  former  dearly  loved  a 
philosophical  discussion.  Mr.  Sudberry  and  Lucy 
walked  in  advance.  As  he  approached  the  well- 
known  bush,  the  force  of  habit  induced  him  almost 
unconsciously  to  pick  up  a  stone  and  walk  on  tip- 
toe. Lucy,  who  did  not  know  the  cause  of  this 
strange  action,  looked  at  her  father  in  surprise. 

Whirr !  went  a  black-cock ;  bang !  went  the  stone, 
and  a  yell  instantly  followed,  accompanied  by  a  hat 
—  it  was  his  best  beaver  ! 

"  Why,  dear  papa,  it  is  Sunday  ! " 

"  Dear  me,  so  it  is  ! "  The  good  man  was  evi- 
dently much  discomfited.  "  Ah  !  Lucy  dear,  that 
shows  the  oTect  and  force  of  bad  habit;  that  is  to 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  207 

say,  of  habit  (for  the  simple  act  cannot  be  called 
bad)  on  the  wrong  day." 

"  Y"ou  cannot  call  throwing  your  best  hat  in 
the  mud  a  good  habit  on  any  day,"  said  Mrs. 
Sudberry,  with  the  air  of  a  woman  who  regarded 
her  husband's  chance  of  mending  as  being  quite 
hopeless. 

"  It  was  only  forgetfulness,  my  dear ! "  said  the 
worthy  man,  putting  his  hat  quite  meekly  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  pushing  forward  in  order  to 
avoid  further  remarks.  Coming  to  a  hollow  of  the 
road,  they  found  that  it  was  submerged  a  foot  deep 
by  the  river,  which  had  been  swollen  into  a  small 
lake  at  that  spot.  There  was  much  trouble  here. 
McAllister,  with  native  gallantry,  offered  to  carry 
the  ladies  over  in  his  arms ;  but  the  ladies  would 
not  listen  to  the  proposal,  with  the  exception  of 
Tilly,  who  at  once  accepted  it  gladly.  The  rest 
succeeded  in  scrambling  along  by  the  projecting 
stones  at  the  base  of  the  wall  that  ran  alongside  of 
the  road,  and  gained  the  other  side,  after  many 
slips,  much  alarm,  and  sundry  screams. 

"  Oh,  you  darling  1 "  cried  Tilly,  suddenly.  She 
pointed  to  a  hole  Jn  the  wall,  out  of  which  peeped 
the  most  wide-av  ake  weasel  that  ever  lived.  Its 


208  Frealcs  on  the  Fells;  or, 

brown  little  head  and  sharp  nose  moved  quickly 
about  with  little  jerks,  and  its  round  lustrous  black 
eyes  seemed  positively  to  glitter  with  surprise 
(perhaps  it  was  delight)  at  the  Sudberry  Family. 
Of  course  Jacky  rushed  at  it  with  a  yell  —  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  the  terrier  in  Jacky  —  and  of 
course  the  weasel  turned  tail,  and  vanished  like  a 
flash  of  light. 

When  they  came  to  the  narrowest  part  of  the 
pass  which  opened  out  of  their  own  particular 
valley  —  Rasselas  Yale,  as  Lucy  had  named  it  — 
Tilly  was  fortunate  enough  to  set  eyes  on  anothei 
"  darling,"  which,  in  the  shape  of  a  roe  deer,  stood, 
startled  and  trembling,  in  the  centre  of  the  pass. 
They  came  on  it  so  suddenly  that  it  seemed  to 
have  been  paralyzed  for  a  moment.  A  shout  from 
the  imp,  however,  quickly  dissolved  the  spell ;  with 
one  graceful  bound  it  cleared  the  wall,  and  was  far 
away  among  the  brackens  on  the  mountain-side 
before  the  party  had  recovered  from  their  delight 
and  surprise  at  having  met  a  real  live  wild  deer, 
face  to  face,  and  not  twenty  yards  distant,  in  this 
unexpected  manner. 

Nothing  further  occurred  to  arrest  their  prog- 
ress to  church,  which  was  upwards  of  four  miles 
from  th^ir  home  among  the  hills. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  209 

The  sermon  that  day  was  peculiar.  The  minis- 
ter of  the  parish  was  a  young  man ;  one  of  those 
quiet,  modest,  humble  young  men,  who  are,  as  their 
friends  think,  born  to  be  neglected  in  this  world. 
He  was  a  shrewd,  sensible  young  fellow,  however, 
who,  if  put  to  it,  could  have  astonished  his 
"  friends "  not  a  little.  He  was  brimful  of 
"  Scotch  "  theology ;  but,  strange  to  say,  he  re- 
frained from  bringing  that  fact  prominently  before 
his  flock,  insomuch  that  some  of  the  wiser  among 
them  held  the  opinion,  that,  although  he  was  an  ex- 
cellent, worthy  young  man,  he  was,  if  any  thing,  a 
little  commonplace  —  in  fact,  "  he  never  seemed  to 
have  any  diffeeculties  in  his  discoorses ;  an'  if  he 
had,  he  aye  got  ower  them  by  sayin'  plump  oot 
that  they  were  mysteries  he  did  na  pretend  to  un- 
ravel ! " 

Any  one  with  half  an  eye  might  have  seen  that 
the  young  clergyman  was  immeasurably  above  his 
flock  intellectually.  A  few  of  them,  among  whom 
was  our  friend  McAllister,  perceived  this,  and 
appreciated  their  minister.  The  most  of  them, 
good  souls,  thought  him  worthy,  but  weak. 

Feeling  that  he  had  been  appointed  to  preacfi  the 
gospd,  this  youth  resolved  to  "make  himself  all 

14 


210  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

things  to  all  men,  in  order  that  he  might  gain 
some."  He  therefore  aimed  at  preaching  Christ 
crucified,  and  kept  much  of  his  own  light  in  the 
background,  bringing  it  out  only  in  occasional 
flashes,  which  were  calculated  to  illuminate,  but 
not  dazzle,  the  minds  of  his  people.  He  remem- 
bered the  remark  of  that  old  woman,  who,  when 
asked  what  she  thought  of  a  new  minister,  said, 
"  Hoot !  I  think  naethin'  o'  him  ava' ;  I  understand 
every  word  he  says,''  and  he  resolved  rather  to  be 
thought  nothing  of  at  all  than  pander  to  the  con- 
temptible craving  of  those  who  fancy  that  they  are 
drinking  deep  draughts  of  wisdom  when  they  read 
or  hear  words  that  are  incomprehensible,  but  which 
sound  profoundly  philosophical. 

But  we  might  have  spared  our  readers  all  this, 
for  the  young  minister  did  not  preach  that  day. 
He  was  unwell,  and  a  friend  had  agreed  to  preach 
for  him.  The  friend  was  an  old  man,  with  bent 
form  and  silvery  hair,  who,  having  spent  a  long  life 
in  preaching  the  gospel,  had  been  compelled,  by 
increasing  age,  to  retire  from  active  service.  Yet, 
like  a  true  warrior,  he  could,  when  occasion  re- 
quired, buckle  on  his  Christian  armor,  and  fight 
stoutly,  as  of  old,  for  his  beloved  Master  and  for 
the  salvation  of  human  souls. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  211 

His  eye  was  dim  and  his  voice  was  weak,  and  it 
brought  tears  tc  the  eyes  of  the  sympathetic 
among  the  people  to  see  the  old  man  lose  his  place 
and  unconsciously  repeat  his  sentences.  But  not 
a  shadow  of  disrespect  mingled  with  their  feelings. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  glow  of  love  and  the 
kindly  fire  which  flushed  the  pale  face  when  salva- 
tion was  the  theme.  When  he  mentioned  the  name 
of  Jesus,  and  urged  sinners  to  flee  from  the  wrath 
to  come,  the  people  felt  the  truth  of  that  word, 
"  God's  strength  is  perfected  in  man's  weakness." 

The  Sudberrys  felt  very  happy  that  day  on  re- 
turning home.  They  overtook  old  Moggy,  stump- 
ing along  through  mud  and  water,  with  tears  be- 
dewing her  cheeks. 

"Why,  Moggy,  you  are  all  wetl"  said  Fred, 
hastening  towards  her. 

"  Ay,  I  fell  into  a  dub  as  I  cam  out  o'  the  kirk. 
But,  ech !  sirs,  I've  heard  blessed  words  this  day." 

The  Sudberrys  spent  that  evening  in  their  usual 
way.  They  went  to  a  particular  spot,  which  Lucy 
had  named  the  Sunny  Knoll,  and  there  learned 
hymns  off  by  heart,  which  were  repeated  at  night 
and  commented  on  by  Mr.  Sudberry.  After  supper 
they  all  got  into  what  is  called  "  a  talk."  It  were 


212  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

presumptuous  to  attempt  to  explain  what  thai 
means.  Every  one  knows  what  it  is.  Many  people 
know,  also,  that  "a  talk"  can  be  got  up  when 
people  are  in  the  right  spirit,  on  any  subject,  and 
that  the  subject  of  all  others  most  difficult  to  get 
up  this  "talk"  upon,  is  religion.  Mr.  Sudberry 
knew  this ;  he  felt  much  inclined  at  one  time  that 
night  to  talk  about  fishing,  but  he  laid  strong  con- 
straint on  himself,  and  gave  the  conversation  a 
turn  in  the  right  direction.  The  result  was  "a 
talk  "  —  a  hearty,  free,  enthusiastic  communing  — 
on  the  Saviour,  the  soul,  and  eternal  things,  which 
kept  them  up  late  and  sent  them  happy  to  bed  — 
happier  than  ttey  had  yet  been  all  that  season. 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  21-J 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  STRANGE  HOME-COMING. 

MASTER  JACKY  made  two  discoveries  next  day, 
both  of  which  he  announced  with  staring  eyes  and 
in  breathless  haste,  having  previously  dashed  into 
the  parlor  like  a  miniature  thunderbolt. 

The  first  was  that  the  bathing-pool  was  clean 
swept  away  by  the  floods,  not  a  vestige  of  it  being 
left.  The  whole  family  rushed  out  to  see  with 
their  own  eyes.  They  saw  and  were  convinced. 
Not  a  trace  of  it  remained.  Even  the  banks  of 
the  little  stream  had  been  so  torn  and  altered  by 
gushing  water  and  tumbling  rocks  that  it  was  al 
most  impossible  to  say  where  that  celebrated  pool 
had  been.  The  rains  having  commenced  again  on 
Monday  (just  as  if  Sunday  had  been  allowed  to 
clear  up  in  order  to  let  people  get  to  church),  the 
family  returned  to  the  house,  some  to  read  and 
sketch,  Mr.  Sudberry  and  George  to  prepare  for 
a  fishing  excursion,  despite  the  rain. 

The  second  discovery  was  more  startling  in  its 


214  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

nature.  Jacky  announced  it  with  round  eyes  and 
a  blazing  face,  thus  —  "  Oh  !  ma,  old  Moggy's  d  — 
dyin' ! " 

The  attractive  power  of  "  sweeties  "  and  a  cer- 
tain fondness  for  the  old  woman  in  the  boy's  heart 
had  induced  Jacky  to  visit  the  hut  so  frequently, 
that  it  at  last  came  to  be  understood,  that,  when 
the  imp  was  utterly  lost,  he  was  sure  to  be  at 
old  Moggy's  !  He  had  sauntered  down,  indiffer- 
ent to  rain,  to  call  on  his  friend  just  after  discover- 
ing the  destruction  of  the  bathing-pool,  and  found 
her  lying  on  the  bundle  of  rags  which  constituted 
her  bed.  She  was  groaning  wofully.  Jack  went 
forward  with  much  anxiety.  The  old  woman 
was  too  ill  to  raise  herself;  but  she  had  sufficient 
strength  to  grasp  the  child's  hand,  and,  drawing 
him  towards  her,  to  stroke  his  head. 

"  Hallo !  Moggy,  you're  ill ! " 

A  groan  and  a  gasp  was  the  reply,  and  the  poor 
creature  made  such  wry  faces,  and  looked  altogeth- 
er so  cadaverous,  that  Jacky  was  quite  alarmed. 
He  suggested  a  drink  of  water,  and  brought  her 
one.  Then,  as  the  old  woman  poured  out  a  copious 
stream  of  Gaelic,  with  much  emphasis,  he  felt  that 
the  presence  oi  some  more  able  and  intelligent 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  215 

nurse  was  necessary ;  so,  like  a  sensible  boy,  he 
ran  home  and  delivered  his  report,  as  has  been 
already  described. 

Lucy  and  Fred  hastened  at  once  to  the  hut  of 
the  old  woman,  and  found  her  in  truth  in  a  high 
fever,  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  the  severe  wetting  of 
the  day  before,  and  having  slept  in  damp  clothes. 
Her  mind  was  wandering  a  little  when  Lucy  knelt 
at  her  side  and  took  her  hand,  but  she  retained 
sufficient  self-control  to  look  up  and  exclaim  ear- 
nestly, "  I  can  say'd  noo  —  I  can  say'd  noo  !  I  can 
say,  Thy  will  be  done  I " 

She  became  aware,  as  she  said  so,  that  the  visit- 
or at  her  side  wap  not  the  one  she  had  expected. 

"  Eh  !  ye're  no'  Miss  Flora." 

"  No,  dear  granny,  but  I  am  quite  as  anxious  to 
help  you,  and  Flora  will  come  very  soon.  We 
have  only  just  heard  of  your  illness,  and  have  sent 
a  message  to  Flora.  Come,  tell  me  what  is  the 
matter;  let  me  put  your  poor  head  right." 

Old  Moggy  submitted  with  a  groan,  and  Lucy, 
assisted  by  Fred,  endeavored  to  make  her  bed  a 
little  more  comfortable,  while  the  anxious  and  star- 
ing Jacky  was  sent  back  to  the  house  for  some  tea 
and  a  dry  flannel  gown.  Before  his  return,  how- 


216  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

ever,  Flora  Macdonald,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the 
neighborhood,  came  in  to  see  Moggy,  and  immedi- 
ately took  the  case  in  hand,  in  a  way  that  greatly 
relieved  Fred  and  Lucy,  because  they  felt  that 
she  was  accustomed  to  such  incidents,  and  thor- 
oughly understood  what  to  do. 

Hobbs,  who  came  in  a  few  minutes  later  with 
the  Sudberry  medicine  chest,  was  instantly  de- 
spatched by  Flora  for  the  doctor,  and  George,  who 
entered  a  few  minutes  after  that,  was  sent  about 
his  business,  as  were  also  a  number  of  gossips, 
whose  presence  would  ere  long  have  rendered  the 
small  hut  unbearably  warm  but  for  Flora's  decision. 

Meanwhile  all  this  unusual  bustle  had  the  effect 
of  diverting  the  mind  of  the  patient,  who  ceased  to 
groan,  and  took  to  wondering  instead. 

Leaving  them  all  thus  engaged,  we  must  beg  the 
reader  to  accompany  us  to  a  very  different  scene. 

It  is  a  dense  thicket  within  the  entrance  of  the 
pass,  to  which  reference  has  been  made  more  than 
once.  Here  a  band  of  wandering  beggars  or  gyp- 
sies had  pitched  their  camp  on  a  spot  which  com- 
manded an  extensive  view  of  the  high  road,  yet 
was  itself  concealed  from  view  by  the  dwarf  tree? 
which  in  that  place  covered  the  rugged  hill-side. 


Three  Months'  Rustication. 


There  was  a  rude  hut  constructed  of  boughs  and 
ferns,  underneath  which  several  dark-skinned  and 
sturdy  children  were  at  play.  A  dissipated-look- 
ing young  woman  sat  beside  them.  In  front  of 
this  hut  a  small  fire  was  kindled,  and  over  it,  from 
a  tripod,  hung  an  iron  pot,  the  contents  of  which 
were  watched  with  much  interest  and  stirred  from 
time  to  time  by  a  middle-aged  woman  of  forbidding 
aspect.  Beside  her  stood  our  amiable  friend  with 
the  squint  and  the  broken  nose,  who  has  already 
been  mentioned  as  having  received  a  merited 
thrashing  from  Mr.  Sudberry. 

"  Yes,  the  little  brute  has  come  back,"  said  the 
gypsy,  grinding  his  teeth  in  a  way  that  might  have 
led  one  to  suppose  he  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  had  the  "  little  brute  "  between  them. 

"  Serves  ye  right  for  stealin'  him  away  !  "  said 
the  woman. 

"  Serves  me  right  1  "  echoed  the  man,  bitterly. 
"  Did  I  not  vow  that  I  would  have  my  revenge  on 
that  old  witch  ?  Did  she  not  stand  up  in  court  and 
witness  again'  me,  so  that  I  got  two  year  for  a  job 
that  many  a  fellow  gits  off  with  six  months  for  ?  " 

"Well,  you  know  you  deserved  it!"  was  the 
woman's  comforting  rejoinder.  "  You  committe  <1 
the  robbery." 


218  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  So  I  dia ;  but  if  that  she-wolf  had  not  made  it 
out  so  bad,  I'd  have  got  off  with  six  months.  Ha ! 
but  I  knew  how  to  touch  her  up.  I  knew  her 
weakness  !  swore,  afore  I  left  the  dock,  that  I'd 
steal  away  the  little  cub  she  was  so  fond  of —  and 
I  did  it!" 

There  was  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  the  gypsy's 
face  as  he  said  this,  but  it  was  quickly  followed 
by  a  scowl  when  the  woman  said,  — 

"  Well,  and  much  you  have  made  of  it.  Here  is 
the  brat  come  back  at  the  end  o'  five  years,  to 
spoil  our  harvest !  " 

"  How  could  I  know  he'd  do  that  ?  I  paid  the 
captain  a  goodish  lump  o'  tin  to  take  him  on  a  long 
voyage,  and  I  thought  he  was  so  young  that  he'd 
forget  the  old  place." 

"  How  d'ye  know  that  he  hasn't  forgot  it  ?  "  in- 
quired the  woman. 

"  'Cause,  I  seed  him  not  twenty  miles  from  this, 
and  heerd  him  say  he'd  stop  at  the  Blue  Boar  all 
night,  and  come  on  here  in  the  morning  —  that's 
to-morrow  —  so  I  come  straight  out  to  ask  you  wot 
I'm  to  do." 

"Ha!  that's  like  you.  Too  chicken-hearted  to 
do  any  thing  till  I  set  you  on,  an'  mean  enough  to 
saddle  it  on  me  when  ye'r  nabbed." 


Three  Montlis1  Rustication.  219 

"  Come,  that's  an  old  story  !  "  growled  the  man. 
ft  foil  know  wot  I  am,  and  I  knows  wot  you  are. 
But  if  somethin's  not  done,  we'll  have  to  cut  this 
here  part  o'  the  country  in  the  very  thick  o'  the 
season,  when  these  southern  sight-seers  are  ran- 
ging about  the  hills." 

"  That's  true  !  "  rejoined  the  woman,  seriously. 
"Many  a  penny  the  bairns  get  from  them,  an' 
there's  no  part  so  good  as  this.  Ye  couldn't  put 
him  out  o'  the  way,  could  ye  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  doggedly. 

The  woman  had  accompanied  her  question  with 
a  sidelong  glance  of  fiendish  meaning,  but  her 
eyes  at  once  dropped,  and  she  evinced  no  anger  at 
the  sharp  decision  of  her  companion's  reply. 

"  Mother ! "  cried  the  young  woman,  issuing 
from  the  hut  at  the  moment,  "  don't  you  dare  to  go 
an'  tempt  him  again  like  that.  Our  hands  are 
black  enough  already;  don't  you  try  to  make  them 
red,  else  I'll  blab  ! " 

The  elder  woman  assumed  an  injured  look  as 
she  said,  "  Who  spoke  of  makin'  them  red  ?  Evil 
dreaders  are  evil  doers.  Is  there  no  way  o'  puttin' 
a  chick  out  o'  the  way  besides  murderin'  him  ?  " 

"  Hush ! "     exclaimed    the    man,    starting    and 


220  treats  an  the   Fetts;  or, 

glancing  round  with  a  guilty  look,  as  if  he  fancied 
the  bare  mention  of  the  word  "  murder "  would 
bring  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  down  on  his  head. 

"  I  won't  hush ! "  cried  the  woman.  "  You're 
cowards,  both  of  you.  Are  there  no  conies  in  the 
hills  to  hide  him  in  —  no  ropes  to  tie  him  with  — 
that  you  should  find  it  so  difficult  to  keep  a  brat 
quiet  for  a  week  or  two?" 

A  gleam  of  intelligence  shot  across  the  ill- 
favored  face  of  the  gypsy. 

"  Ha  !  you're  a  wise  woman.  Come,  out  with 
your  plan,  and  see  if  I'm  not  game  to  do  it." 

"There's  no  plan  worth  speakin'  of,"  rejoined 
the  woman,  somewhat  mollified  by  her  companion's 
complimentary  remarks.  "  All  you've  to  do  is  to 
go  down  the  road  to-morrow,  catch  him,  and  bring 
him  to  me.  Til  see  to  it  that  he  don't  make  his 
voice  heard  until  we've  done  with  this  part  of  the 
country.  Then  we  can  slip  the  knot  and  let  the 
brat  go  free." 

aITl  do  it!"  said  the  man,  sitting  down  on  a 
stone  and  beginning  to  fill  his  pipe. 

"  I  thought  he  was  dead  !  "  said  the  woman. 

"  So  did  I ;  but  he's  not  dead  yet,  an'  don't  look 
as  if  he'd  die  soon." 


Three  Mordks1  Rustication.  221 

•  Uay  be/'  said  the  woman,  "he  wont  reineam 
bei  ye.  It's  full  five  year  now  gin'  he  wai 
took  away." 

'•  Won't  he?  "  retorted  the  man,  with  an  angry 
look,  which  did  not  tend  to  improve  his  disagree- 
able visage.  "Hah!  I  heerd  him  say  he'd  know 
me  if  he  saw  me  in  a  crowd  o?  ten  thousand.  I 
would  ha'  throttled  the  cub  then  and  there,  but 
the  place  was  too  public." 

A  short  silence  ensued,  during  which  the  gypeiea 
ate  their  food  with  the  zest  of  hatfetanred  wqirem. 

"You'd  better  go  down  and  see  old  Moggy," 
suggested  the  woman,  when  the  man  had  fi™fc««l 
his  repast  and  resumed  his  pipe.  "  If  the  brat 
escapes  you  to-morrow,  it  may  be  as  wefl  to  let 
the  old  jade  know  that  you'll  murder  both  him  and 
her,  if  he  dares  to  blab." 

The  man  shook  his  head.  *  No  use ! "  said  hft. 
But  the  woman  repeated  her  advice  in  a  tone  that 
was  equivalent  to  a  command,  so  the  man  rase  op 
sulkily  and  went. 

He  was  not  a  little  surprised,  on  drawing  near 
to  the  hut,  to  find  it  in  a  state  of  bustle,  and  appar- 
ently in  possession  of  the  Sudberrys,  X;:  iirinj 
to  show  himself,  he  slunk  back  to  his  encampment, 


222  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

and  informed  his  female  companion  of  what  he  had 
seen. 

"  All  the  more  reason  to  make  sure  work  of  him 
on  the  road  to-morrow ! "  said  she,  with  a  dark 
frown. 

"  So  I  mean  to  ! "  replied  the  man  doggedly. 

With  these  amiable  sentiments  and  intentions 
animating  their  breasts,  this  pair  crept  into  their 
booth  and  went  to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  their 
family. 


Three  Months'1  Rustication.  223 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MYSTERIOUS  MATTERS. — A  HAPPY  RETURN,  ETC. 

THE  morning  which  followed  the  events  narrated 
in  the  last  chapter  broke  with  unclouded  splen- 
dor. It  was  the  second  of  the  four  bright  days 
which  relieved  the  monotony  of  those  six  dreary- 
weeks  of  rain. 

Rejoicing  in  the  glorious  aspect  of  earth  and 
sky,  and  in  the  fresh  scents  which  the  rain  had 
called  forth  from  every  shrub  and  flower  on  the 
mountains,  Mr.  Sudberry  dashed  about  the  White 
House  —  in  and  out  —  awaiting  the  assembling 
of  the  family  to  breakfast  with  great  impatience. 
His  coat-tails  that  morning  proved  the  means 
of  annihilating  the  sugar-basin  —  the  last  of  the 
set  which  had  graced  the  board  on  his  arrival  in 
the  Highlands,  and  which  had  been  left,  for  some 
time  past,  "blooming  alone,"  all  its  former  com- 
panions having  been  shattered  and  gone  long 
ago. 

According  to  custom,  Mr.  Sudberry  went  for- 


224  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

ward  to  the  barometrical  banjo,  intending  to  tap 
it  —  not  that  he  expected  correct  information 
now.  No;  he  had  found  out  its  falsehood,  and 
was  prepared  to  smile  at  any  thing  it  should  say, 
He  opened  his  eyes,  however,  and  exclaimed 
"  Hallo !  "  with  unwonted  energy,  on  observing 
that,  as  if  in  sheer  defiance  of  the  weather,  of 
truth,  and  of  public  opinion,  its  index  aimed 
point  blank  at  "  stormy  ! " 

He  speedily  discovered  that  this  tremendous 
falsehood  was  the  result  of  a  careful  intestine 
examination,  to  which  the  instrument  had  been 
privately  subjected  by  Master  Jacky  the  even- 
ing before ;  in  the  course  of  which  examination 
the  curious  boy,  standing  below  the  barometer, 
did,  after  much  trouble,  manage  to  cut  the  bulb 
which  held  the  mercury.  That  volatile  metal, 
being  set  free,  at  once  leaped  into  its  liberator's 
bosom,  and  gushed  down  between  his  body  and 
his  clothes  to  the  floor ! 

"I'll  thrash  him  to  within  an  inch" —  Mr. 
Sudberry  clinched  his  teeth  and  his  fists,  and 
burst  out  of  the  room  (it  was  at  this  moment 
that  the  last  of  the  set  became  "  faded  and 
gone  "),  and  rushed  towards  the  nursery.  "  No, 


Three,  Montlis*  Rustication.  225 

I  won't,"  he  muttered,  suddenly  wheeling  round 
on  his  heel  and  returning  slowly  to  the  parlor. 
"  I'll  say  nothing  whatever  about  it."  And  Mr. 
Sudberry  kept  his  word  —  Jacky  never  heard  of  it 
from  that  day  to  this  ! 

Seizing  the  opportunity  of  the  fine  day,  Mr. 
Sudberry  and  George  went  out  to  fish.  They 
fished  with  worm  now,  the  streams  being  too 
much  swollen  for  fly. 

Meanwhile,  Master  Jacky  sauntered  down  alone, 
in  a  most  free-and-easy  independent  manner,  to 
visit  old  Moggy,  who  was  thought  to  be  in  a 
dying  state  —  at  least  the  doctor  said  so,  and  it 
was  to  be  presumed  that  he  was  right. 

Jacky  had  regularly  constituted  himself  sick 
nurse  to  the  old  woman.  Despite  the  entreaties 
of  Flora  and  his  sister,  who  feared  that  the 
disease  might  be  infectious,  he  could  not  be 
prevailed  on  to  remain  away.  His  nursing  did 
not,  indeed,  consist  in  doing  much  that  was  use- 
ful. He  confined  himself  chiefly  to  playing  on  the 
river-banks  near  the  hut,  and  to  making  occasional 
inquiries  as  to  how  the  patient  was  getting  on. 
Sometimes  he  also  assisted  Flora  in  holding  sun- 
dry cups,  and  glasses,  and  medicine  bottles,  and 

15 


226  Freaks  on  the  FeUs ;  or, 

when  Flora  was  away  he  amused  himself  by  play- 
ing practical  jokes  on  the  young  woman  who  had 
volunteered  to  act  as  regular  nurse  to  the  old 
invalid. 

Towards  the  afternoon,  Jacky  put  his  hands 
behind  his  back  —  he  would  have  put  them  under 
his  coat-tails  if  he  had  had  any,  for  he  was  very 
old-mannish  in  his  tendencies  —  and  sauntered 
down  the  road  towards  the  pass.  At  this  same 
time  it  chanced  that  another  little  boy,  more  than 
twice  Jacky's  age,  was  walking  smartly  along  the 
same  road  towards  the  same  pass  from  the  other 
side  of  it.  There  were  as  yet  several  miles  be- 
tween the  two  boys,  but  the  pace  at  which  the 
elder  walked  bid  fair  to  bring  them  face  to  face 
within  an  hour.  The  boy  whom  we  now  introduce 
was  evidently  a  sailor.  He  wore  blue  trousers,  a 
blue  vest  with  little  brass  buttons,  a  blue  jacket 
with  bigger  brass  buttons,  and  a  blue  cap  with  a 
brass  button  on  either  side  —  each  brass  button,  on 
coat,  cap,  and  vest,  having  an  anchor  of  (appar- 
ently) burnished  gold  in  the  centre  of  it.  He  had 
clear  blue  eyes,  brown  curly  hair,  and  an  easy,  off- 
hand swagger,  which  last  was  the  result  of  a  sea- 
faring life  and  example :  but  fa  had  a  kindly  and 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  227 

happy,  rather  than  a  boastful  or  self-satisfied,  ex 
pression  of  face,  as  he  bowled  along  with  his  handa 
in  his  pockets,  kicking  all  the  stones  out  of  his 
way,  and  whistling  furiously.  Sometimes  he  burst 
into  a  song,  and  once  or  twice  he  laughed,  smote 
his  thigh,  and  cheered,  but  never  for  a  moment  did 
he  slacken  his  pace,  although  he  had  walked  many 
a  mile  that  day. 

Curiously  enough,  at  this  same  time,  a  man  was 
crouching  behind  some  bushes  in  the  centre  of  the 
pass  towards  which  these  two  boys  were  approach- 
ing. This  man  had  a  pair  of  gray  eyes  which 
might  have  been  beautiful  had  they  not  been  small 
and,  ferocious-looking,  and  a  nose  which  might  have 
been  aquiline  had  the  bridge  not  been  broken,  and 
a  head  of  shaggy  hair  which  might  have  been 
elegant  had  it  been  combed,  oiled,  curled,  and 
dyed,  and  a  general  appearance  which  might  have 
been  prepossessing  had  it  not  been  that  of  a  thor- 
ough blackguard.  This  lovely  specimen  of  hu- 
manity sat  down  on  a  rock,  and  waited,  and  fidgeted ; 
and  the  expression  of  his  sweet  face  betrayed,  from 
time  to  time,  that  he  was  impatient  and  any  thing 
but  easy  in  his  mind. 

As  Jack}-  \v  ilked  very  leisurely  and  stopped  fr$- 


228  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

quently  to  play,  his  progress  towards  th  3  pass  was 
slow,  and  as  our  waiting  friend,  whom  the  reader 
no  doubt  recognizes  as  the  gypsy,  could  not  see  far 
along  the  road  in  that  direction,  he  was  not  aware 
of  his  approach.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sailor-boy 
came  on  fast,  and  the  road  was  so  open  and  straight 
in  that  direction  that  the  gypsy  saw  him  when  he 
was  far  enough  away  to  seem  like  a  mere  blue  spot 
in  the  distance. 

Presently  he  gained  the  entrance  to  the  pass 
and  began  the  ascent,  which  was  gradual,  with  a 
riotous  windlass  song,  in  which  the  sentiments,  yo  ! 
heave !  and  ho !  were  most  frequently  expressed. 
As  he  drew  near,  the  gypsy  might  have  been  ob- 
served to  grin  a  smile  that  would  have  been  quite 
captivating  but  for  some  obstinate  peculiarity 
about  the  muscles  of  the  mouth  which  rendered  it 
•very  repulsive. 

Next  moment  the  sailor-boy  was  abreast  of  him. 
The  moment  after  that  the  bushes  parted,  and  the 
gypsy  confronted  his  victim,  cutting  a  tremendous 
"  heave  !  "  short  in  the  middle,  and  converting  the 
"  ho  ! "  that  should  have  followed,  into  a  prolonged 
vhistle  of  astonishment. 

"  Hah !  my  lad,  you  remember  me,  it  seems  ?  " 


Three  Months1  Rustication.  229 

"Remember  you?  Yes,  I  just  do!"  answered 
the  boy,  in  whose  countenance  every  trace  of  boy- 
ishness was  instantly  swallowed  up  in  an  intense 
gaze  of  manly  determination. 

This  mute  but  meaning  glance  had  such  a  strange 
effect  upon  the  gypsy  that  ho  actually  cowered  for 
a  moment,  and  looked  as  if  he  were  afraid  he  was 
going  to  "  catch  it."  However,  he  forced  a  laugh 
and  said  — 

"  Come,  Billy,  you  needn't  look  so  cross.  You 
know  I  was  hard  put  to  it  w'en  I  sent  you  a-boord 
the  '  Fair  Nancy,'  and  you  shouldn't  ought  to  owe 
me  a  grudge  for  puttin'  ye  in  the  way  o'  makin' 
yer  fortin'." 

The  man  kept  edging  towards  the  boy  as  he 
spoke,  but  the  boy  observed  this  and  kept 
edging  away,  regarding  the  man  with  compressed 
lips  and  dilated  eyes,  but  not  vouchsafing  a  word 
in  reply. 

"  I  say,  Billy,  it's  unkind,  you  know,  to  forget 
old  times  like  this.  I  want  to  shake  hands ;  and 
there's  my  old  woman  up  on  the  hill  as  wants  to  see 
you  again." 

Suddenly  the  fierce  look  left  the  boy's  face,  and 
was  replaced  by  a  wild,  waggish  expression. 


230  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"  Oh  !  your  old  woman  wants  to  see  me,  does  she  ? 
And  you  want  to  shake  hands,  do  you  ?  Now  look 
here,  Growler ;  I  see  through  you !  You  thought 
to  catch  a  flat,  and  you'll  find  you've  caught  a 
tartar ;  or,  rather,  that  the  tartar  has  caught  you. 
But  I've  grown  merciful  since  I  went  to  sea  "  (the 
lad  tucked  up  his  wristbands  at  this  point,  as  if  he 
really  meditated  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  his 
huge  antagonist).  "  I  do  remember  old  l.imes,  and 
I  know  how  richly  you  deserve  to  be  hanged ;  but 
I  don't  want  to  mix  up  my  home-coming,  if  I  can 
help  it,  with  dirty  work.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
—  I'll  give  you  your  choice  o'  two  courses.  Either 
take  yourself  off  and  be  out  o'  hail  of  this  part  of 
the  country  within  twelve  hours,  or  walk  with  me 
to  the  nearest  police  station  and  give  yourself  up. 
There  —  I'll  give  you  exactly  two  minutes  to  think 
over  it." 

The  youthful  salt  here  pulled  out  an  enormous 
double-case  silver  watch  with  an  air  of  perfect 
nonchalance,  and  awaited  the  result.  For  a  few 
seconds  the  gypsy  was  overwhelmed  by  the  lad's 
coolness;  then  he  burst  into  a  gruff  laugh  and 
rushed  at  him.  He  might  as  well  have  run  at  a 
pquirrel.  The  boy  sprang  to  one  side,  crossed  tho 


Three  Montlis*  Rustication.  231 

road  at  a  bound,  and,  still  holding  the  watch,  said 
—  "  Half  a  minute  gone  !  "  Again  the  man  rushed 
at  his  small  opponent  with  similar  result,  and  a 
cool  remark,  that  another  half  minute  was  gone. 
This  so  exasperated  the  gypsy,  that  he  ran  wildly 
after  the  boy  for  half  a  minute,  but  the  latter  was 
as  active  as  a  kitten,  and  could  not  be  caught. 

"  Time's  up ;  two  minutes  and  a  quarter ;  so 
don't  say  that  I'm  not  merciful.  Now,  follow  me 
to  the  constable." 

So  saying,  Billy,  as  the  man  had  called  him, 
turned  his  back  towards  the  pass,  and  ran  off  at  full 
speed  towards  the  village.  The  gypsy  followed 
him  at  once,  feeling  that  his  only  chance  lay  in 
capturing  the  boy ;  but  so  artfully  did  Billy  hang 
back  and  allow  his  pursuer  to  come  close  up,  that 
he  had  almost  succeeded  in  enticing  him  into  the 
village,  when  the  man  became  suddenly  aware  of 
his  folly,  and  stopped.  Billy  stopped  too. 

"  What !  you're  not  game  to  come  on  ?  " 

The  man  shook  his  fist,  and,  turning  his  face 
towards  the  pass,  ran  back  towards  his  booth  in 
the  hills,  intending  to  take  the  boy's  first  piece  of 
advne,  and  quit  that  part  of  the  country.  Bui 
Billy  had  no  idea  of  Jetting  him  off  thus.  He  now 


232  Freaks  on  the  FeUs;  or, 

became  the  pursuer.  However  fast  the  gypsy  ran, 
the  sailor -lad  kept  up  with  him.  If  the  man 
halted,  as  he  frequently  did  in  a  breathless  condi- 
tion, and  tried  to  gain  over  his  adversary,  Billy 
also  stopped,  said  he  was  in  no  hurry,  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  jacket  pockets,  and  began  to  whistle. 
Thus  he  kept  him  in  view  until  they  once  more 
stood  in  the  pass.  Here  the  man  sat  down  on  a 
large  stone,  thoroughly  exhausted.  The  boy  sat 
down  on  another  stone  opposite  to  him,  looking 
quite  fresh  and  jolly.  Five  years  of  hearty  devo- 
tion to  a  noble  calling  had  prepared  the  muscles  of 
the  little  sailor  for  that  day's  exercise.  The  same 
number  of  years  spent  in  debauchery  and  crime 
had  not  prepared  the  vagabond  giant  for  that  day's 
work. 

"  What  has  brought  you  back  ? "  said  Growler, 
savagely. 

"  To  see  the  old  granny  whom  you  stole  me 
from,"  replied  the  boy.  "  Also,  to  have  the  satis- 
faction of  puttin'  you  in  limbo  ;  although  I  did  not 
expect  to  have  this  pleasure." 

"  Ha !  ha ! "  laughed  Growler,  sarcastically, 
"  you'll  fail  in  ooth.  It's  not  so  easy  to  put  me 
in  limbc  a?  yoi  think — -and  your  grandmother  is 
dyinV 


Three  Montlis'  Rustication.  233 

"  That's  false  1 ''  cried  Billy,  springing  half  war 
across  the  road  and  shaking  his  little  fist  at  his 
enemy  —  "you  know  it  is.  The  landlord  of  the 
'  Blue  Boar '  told  me  he  saw  her  at  church  strong 
and  well  last  Sunday." 

"  She's  dyin',  however,  may  be  dead"  said  the 
man,  with  a  sneer  so  full  of  triumph,  that  it  struck 
a  chill  to  the  heart  of  the  poor  boy. 

Just  at  that  moment,  Jacky  Sudberry  turned 
slowly  round  a  sharp  angle  of  the  road,  and  stood 
there  transfixed,  with  his  eyes  like  two  saucers, 
and  his  mouth  as  round  as  an  0. 

The  sight  of  this  intruder  distracted  Billy's  at- 
tention  for  a  moment.  Growler  at  once  bounded 
over  the  low  wall  and  dived  into  the  underwood. 
Billy  hesitated  to  follow  him,  for  the  last  piece  of 
information  weighed  heavily  on  his  mind.  That 
moment's  hesitation  was  sufficient  for  the  gypsy  to 
make  good  his  retreat.  Although  Billy  leaped  the 
wall  the  next  moment,  and  darted  hither  and  thith- 
er through  the  copse,  he  failed  to  catch  sight  of 
him  again,  and  finally  returned  to  the  road,  where 
he  found  Jacky  seated  on  a  stone,  pondering  in  a 
state  of  bewilderment  on  what  he  had  seen. 

"  We1!,  my  boy,  how  goes  it  ?  "  cried  the  sailoi 


234  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

heartily,  as  hs  came  forward,  wiping  his  heated 
brow  with  a  blue  spotted  cotton  handkerchief. 

"  All  right  1 "  was  Jacky's  prompt  reply.  "  I  say, 
was  you  fightin'  with  that  man  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that  was  I,  and  I've  not  done  with  bin 
yet." 

Jacky  breathed  hard  and  looked  upon  the  young 
sailor-lad  with  a  deep  reverential  awe,  feeling  that 
he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  real  Jack  the  Giant- 
killer. 

"  He  runn'd  away  ! "  said  Jacky  in  amazement. 
"  Did  you  hit  him  hard  ?  " 

"  Not  with  my  fists ;  they  ain't  big  enough  for 
that  yet.  We've  only  had  a  sparring-match  with 
words  and  legs." 

Jacky  glanced  at  Billy's  legs  as  if  he  regarded 
them  in  the  light  of  dire  engines  of  destruction. 
Indeed,  his  active  mind  jumped  at  once  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  sailor's  must  be  a  kicking  mode  of 
warfare ;  but  he  was  too  much  amazed  to  make  any 
rejoinder. 

"  Now,  my  boy,  I'm  going  this  way,  so  I'll  bid 
you  good  day,"  said  Billy.  Jacky  informed  him 
that  he  was  going  the  same  way,  —  having  only 
been  taking  a  str  >U, — and  would  willingly  go  back : 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  235 

whereupon  Billy  put  his  arm  round  his  shoulder,  as 
boys  are  wont  to  do,  and  Jaoky  grasped  Billy 
round  the  waist,  and  thus  they  wandered  home 
together. 

"I  say,  you're  a  funny  chap,"  observed  the 
young  sailor,  in  a  comic  vein,  as  they  went  along. 

"  So  are  you,"  replied  Jacky,  with  intense  grav- 
ity, being  deeply  serious. 

Billy  laughed;  but  as  the  two  friends  at  that 
moment  emerged  from  the  pass  and  came  in  sight 
of  the  White  House,  the  laugh  was  suddenly 
checked,  and  was  followed  by  a  sound  that  was 
not  unlike  choking.  Jacky  looked  up  in  alarm, 
and  was  surprised  to  see  tears  hopping  over  his 
companion's  brown  cheeks.  To  find  a  lad  who 
could  put  a  giant  to  flight  was  wonderful  enough, 
but  to  find  one  who  could  cry  without  any  reason 
at  all  was  beyond  belief.  Jacky  looked  perplexed 
and  said,  "  I  say,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Oh !  nothing ;  only  this  is  my  old  home,  and 
my  scrimmage  with  that  villain  has  made  me  come 
plump  on  it  without  thinkin'.  I  was  born  here. 
I  know  every  stone  and  bush.  I  —  I  —  there's  the 
old"  — 

lie  choked  again  at  this  point,  and  Jacky,  whose 


236  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

mind  was  only  opening,  stood  looking  on  in  silent 
wonder. 

"  My  old  granny  lives  here ;  old  Moggy  "  — 

The  expression  of  Jacky's  face  caused  Billy  to 
stop. 

"  Why,  what's  wrong,  boy  ?  " 

"Is  —  is  —  o  —  old  Moggy  your  granny  ?  "  cried 
Jacky,  eagerly,  stumbling  over  his  words  as  if  he 
had  come  upon  stepping-stones  in  the  dark. 

"  Ay  ;  what  then  ?  " 

"Eh!  /know  her." 

"  Do  you,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Ye  —  yes ;  sh  —  she's  dy in' !  " 

The  result  of  this  remark  was  that  the  sailor-boy 
turned  deadly  pale,  and  stared  at  his  little  friend 
without  being  able  to  utter  a  word.  Mere  human 
nature  taught  Jacky  that  he  had  made  a  mistake 
in  being  so  precipitate :  but  home  education  had 
not  taught  him  to  consider  the  feelings  of  others. 
He  felt  inclined  to  comfort  his  new  friend,  but 
knew  not  how  to  do  it.  At  last  a  happy  thought 
occurred  to  him,  and  he  exclaimed  eagerly  — 

"  B  —  but  sh  —  she's  not  dead  yet ! " 

"  Does  she  live  in  the  same  cottage  ?  "  asked  4,he 
boy,  in  a  low,  husky  voice,  not  considering  thaf  his 


Three  Months1  fiusticafaon.  237 

companion  could  riot  know  what  cottage  she  had 
occupied  in  former  days.  Jacky,  also  ignoring  thib 
fact,  nodded  his  head  violently,  being  past  speech 
with  excitement,  and  pointed  in  the  direction  of 
the  hut. 

Without  another  word,  Billy  (more  correctly 
speaking,  Willie)  at  once  took  to  his  heels,  and  was 
followed  by  Jacky  as  fast  as  his  short  legs  could 
carry  him. 

Flora  Macdonald  was  administering  a  glass  of 
hot  wine  and  water  to  her  patient,  when  the  door 
was  quickly,  yet  gently,  opened,  and  a  sailor-lad 
sprang  into  the  room,  fell  on  his  knees  beside  the 
lowly  couch,  seized  the  old  woman's  hand,  gazed 
for  a  few  seconds  into  her  withered  face,  and  then 
murmuring,  "  Granny,  it's  me,"  laid  his  head  on  her 
shoulder  and  burst  into  tears. 

Flora  gently  drew  the  boy  away. 

"  Willie,  is  it  possible  ;  can  it  be  you?" 

"Is  she  dyin'?"  said  Willie,  looking  up  in 
Flora's  face  with  an  expression  of  agony. 

"  I  trust  not,  dear  boy ;  but  the  doctor  says  she 
is  verj  ill,  and  must  be  kept  quiet." 

"  Hoot,  awa'  wi'  the  doctor  !  He's  wrang,"  cried 
old  Moggy,  suddenly  raising  herself  with  great 


238  Freaks  on  the  Fdls;  or, 

energy  on  one  elbow ;  "  don't  I  see  my  ain  Willie 
there,  as  I've  seen  him  in  my  dreams  mony  and 
mony  a  night?"  (Flora  grasped  Willie's  arm  to 
prevent  his  running  towards  her,  and  pointed  to 
Jacky,  who  had  at  that  moment  entered  the  room, 
and  was  at  once  recognized  by  Moggy.)  "Ay, 
little  did  I  think  when  I  said  yestreen,  '  Thy  wull 
be  done,'  that  He  wad  send  my  ain  laddie  back 
again  I " 

She  folded  Jacky,  who  had  gone  to  the  bedside, 
in  her  arms,  and  was  with  difficulty  prevailed  on 
to  let  him  go.  It  was  quite  evident  that  her  mind 
was  wandering. 

The  effect  of  this  little  episode  on  Willie  was 
powerful  and  twofold.  A  pang  of  jealousy  at  first 
shot  through  his  heart  like  a  flash  of  lightning ; 
but  when  he  perceived  that  the  loving  embrace 
was  meant  for  his  old  self  he  broke  down,  and  the 
tears  once  more  tumbled  over  his  brown  cheeks. 

"  She  cannot  recognize  you  just  now,  dear  Wil- 
lie," said  Flora,  deeply  touched  by  the  sorrow  of 
the  lad ;  "  and,  even  if  she  could,  I  fear  it  would 
do  her  harm  by  exciting  her  too  much.  Come,  my 
poor  fellow  (leading  him  softly  to  the  door),  I  am 
just  going  up  to  visit  a  kind  English  family,  where 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  239 

they  will  be  only  too  glad  to  put  you  up  until  it  is 
safe  to  let  her  know  that  you  have  returned." 

"  But  she  may  die,  and  never  know  that  I  have 
returned,"  said  Willie,  almost  passionately,  as  he 
hung  back. 

"  She  is  in  God's  loving  hands,  Willie." 

"  Can  I  not  stay  and  help  you  to  nurse  her  ? " 
asked  the  boy,  in  pitiful  tones. 

Flora  shook  her  head,  and  Willie  meekly  suffered 
himself  to  be  led  out  of  the  hut. 

This,  then,  was  the  home-coming  that  he  had 
longed  for  so  intensely ;  that  he  had  dreamed  of  so 
often  when  far  away  upon  the  sea !  No  sooner  was 
he  in  the  open  air  than  he  burst  away  from  Flora 
without  a  word,  and  ran  off  at  full  speed  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  pass.  At  first  he  simply  sought  to 
obtain  relief  to  his  feelings  by  means  of  violent 
muscular  exercise.  The  burning  brain  and  throb- 
bing heart  were  unbearable.  He  would  have  given 
the  world  for  the  tears  that  flowed  so  easily  a  short 
time  before  ;  but  they  would  not  now  come.  Run- 
ning, leaping,  bounding  madly  over  the  rough  hill- 
side— that  gave  him  some  relief;  so  he  held  on, 
tlwough  bush  and  brake,  over  heathery  knoll  and 
peat  swamp,  until  the  hut  was  far  behind  him. 


2 -tO  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

Suddenly  his  encounter  with  the  gypsy  occurred 
to  hun.  The  thought  that  he  was  the  original 
cause  of  all  this  misery  roused  a  torrent  of  indig- 
nation within  him,  and  he  resolved  that  the  man 
should  not  escape.  His  wild  race  was  no  longer 
without  purpose  now.  He  no  longer  sprang  into 
the  air  and  bounded  from  rock  to  rock  like  a  wild 
goat ;  but,  coursing  down  the  bed  of  a  mountain- 
torrent,  came  out  upon  the  road,  and  did  not  halt 
until  he  was  in  front  of  the  constabulary  station. 

"  Hallo !  laddie,  what's  wrang  ?  "  inquired  a  blue- 
coated  official,  whose  language  betokened  him  a 
Lowland  Scot. 

"  I've  seen  him ;  come  with  me  —  quick  !  I'll 
take  you  to  his  whereabouts,"  gasped  Willie. 

"  Seen  whae  ?  "  inquired  the  man,  with  slow  de- 
liberation. 

"  The  gypsy,  Growler,  who  stole  me,  and  would 
have  murdered  me  this  morning  if  he  could  have 
caught  me  ;  but  quick,  please !  He'll  get  off  if 
you  don't  look  alive  !  " 

The  earnestness  and  fervor  of  the  lad  had  the 
effect  of  exciting  even  the  constable's  phlegmatic 
nature  ;  so,  after  a  short  conversation,  he  sum- 
moned a  comrade,  and  set  off  for  the  pass  at  a 
round  trot,  led  by  Willie. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  241 

"  D'ye  think  it's  likely  he'll  ken  ye've  come  here 
to  tell  on  him?"  inquired  the  constable,  as  they 
ran. 

"  I  said  I  would  have  him  nabbed,"  replied  the 
boy. 

"  Hoot !  mon  ;  that  was  na  wise-like.  But  after 
a'  ye're  ony  a  bairn.  Here,  Tarn,  ye'd  better  gang 
up  by  the  Stank  burn  an'  keep  a  look-oot  ower  the 
hills,  an'  I'll  start  him." 

Thus  advised,  the  second  constable  diverged  to 
the  right,  and,  plunging  into  the  copsewood,  was 
instantly  out  of  sight. 

Soon  afterwards,  Willie  came  to  the  place  where 

he  had  met  the  gypsy.      Here  a  consultation  was 

• 
held  as  to  where  the  booth  might  probably  be. 

"He  jumped  over  the  wall  here,"  said  Willie. 
"  and  I'm  sure  he  took  the  hill  in  this  direction  at 
first." 

"  Ay,  laddie ;  but  chiels  o'  his  stamp  never  gang 
straight  to  their  mark.  We'll  follow  him  up  this 
way.  Hoo  long  is't  sin'  ye  ported  wi'  him,  said 
ee  ? "  examining  the  place  where  the  gypsy  had 
entered  the  copse. 

Willie  returned  no  answer.  The  unusual  amount 
of  fatigue  and  the  terrible  mortal  excitement 
II 


242  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

which  ho  had  undergone  that  day  were  too  much 
for  him.  A  feeling  of  deadly  sickness  came  sud- 
denly on  him,  and  when  the  constable  looked  round 
he  was  lying  on  the  road  in  a  swoon. 

This  unexpected  incident  compelled  the  man  to 
abandon  further  pursuit  for  the  time.  Giving 
utterance  to  a  "  puir  laddie,"  lie  raised  the  boy  in 
his  arms  and  carried  him  to  the  nearest  hut,  which 
happened  to  be  that  of  old  Moggy  I  No  one  was 
there  but  the  young  woman  who  acted  as  nurse 
to  the  invalid.  It  chanced  that  Moggy  had  had  a 
sleep,  and  she  awoke  with  her  mental  faculties 
much  cleared  when  the  constable  entered  and  laid 
Willie  on  a  mat  not  far  from  her  bed. 

The  old  woman  gazed  long  and  earnestly  in  the 
boy's  face,  and  seemed  much  troubled  and  per- 
plexed while  the  nurse  applied  water  to  his  tem- 
ples. At  last  Willie  opened  his  eyes.  Moggy  at 
once  recognized  him.  She  strove  eagerly  to  reach 
her  long-lost  child,  and  Willie,  jumping  up,  sprang 
to  her  side ;  but  ere  they  met  she  raised  both  arms 
in  the  air,  and,  uttering  a  long  piercing  cry,  fell 
back  insensible  upon  the  bed. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  243 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE    END. 

RAIN,  rain,  rain  ;  continual,  pertinacious,  unmiti- 
gated rain !  The  White  House  was  no  longer 
white,  it  was  gray.  Things  were  no  longer  damp, 
they  were  totally  flooded.  Mr.  McAllister's  princi- 
pal hay-field  was  a  pond  —  every  ditch  was  a  rivu- 
let; "the  burn"  was  a  destructive  cataract;  the 
white  torrents  that  raged  down  thes  mountains 
everywhere,  far  and  near,  looked  like  veins  of 
quartz,  and  the  river  had  become  a  lake  with  a 
strong  current  in  the  middle  of  it.  There  was  no 
sunshine  now  in  the  Highlands,  —  not  a  gleam ! 

Nevertheless  there  was  sunshine  in  the  hearts 
of  some  who  sojourned  there.  Mr.  Sudberry  had 
found  out  that  he  could  fish  just  as  well  in  wet 
weather  as  in  dry,  and  that  the  fish  were  more 
eager  to  be  caught.  That  was  sunshine  enough 
for  him !  Lucy  found  a  new  and  engrossing  amuse- 
ment, of  a  semi-scientific  kind,  in  laying  down  and 
pressing  her  cotanical  specimens,  and  writing  Latin 


244  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

names  tinder  the  same,  being  advised  thereto  and 
superintended  by  Hector  Macdonald.  That  was 
sunshine  enough  for  her,  and  for  him  too  appa- 
rently, for  he  came  every  day  to  help  her  (and  she 
declared  she  could  not  get  on  without  help),  and  it 
was  quite  wonderful  to  observe  how  very  slowly 
the  laying-down  progressed,  although  both  of  the 
semi -philosophers  were  intensely  interested  in 
their  work.  Flora  was  so  sunny  by  nature  that 
she  lightened  up  the  place  around  her  wherever 
she  went ;  she  was  thus  in  some  measure  independ- 
ent of  the  sun.  George  was  heard  to  say  more 
than  once  that  her  face  was  as  good  as  a  sunbeam 
any  day !  Mrs.  Sudberry,  poor  woman,  was  so 
rampantly  triumphant  in  the  total  discomfiture  of 
her  husband  touching  the  weather,  that  she  re- 
signed  herself  to  Highland  miseries  in  a  species  of 
happy  contentment,  and  thus  lived  in  what  may  be 
likened  to  a  species  of  mild  moonshine  of  her  own. 
Tilly,  poor,  delicate,  unobtrusive  Tilly,  was  at  all 
times  satisfied  to  bask  in  the  moonlight  of  her 
mother's  countenance.  As  for  Jacky  —  that  arch- 
imp  discovered  that  wet  weather  usually  brought 
his  victims  within  doors,  and  therefore  kept  them 
constantly  within  reach  of  his  dreadful  influence. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  245 

He  was  supremely  happy  —  "  darling  child."  Fred 
finished  up  his  sketches  —  need  we  say  that  that 
was  sunshine  to  him?  The  servants  too  shared  in 
the  general  felicity.  Indeed,  they  may,  in  a  sense, 
be  said  to  have  been  happier  than  those  they  served, 
for,  having  been  transported  to  that  region  to  work, 
they  found  the  little  bits  of  fun  and  amusement 
that  fell  to  their  lot  all  the  more  pleasant  and  en- 
joyable that  they  were  unexpected,  and  formed  a 
piquant  contrast  to  the  monotonous  routine  of 
daily  duty. 

But  the  brightest  blaze  of  internal  sunshine  — 
the  most  effulgent  and  dazzling  beams  of  light 
were  shed  forth  in  the  lowly  hut  of  Jacky's  par- 
ticular friend.  Old  Moggy  did  not  die  after  all ! 
To  the  total  discomfiture  of  the  parish  doctor,  and 
to  the  reflected  discredit  of  the  medical  profession 
generally,  that  obstinate  old  creature  got  well  in 
spLe  of  the  emphatic  assurances  of  her  medical 
adviser  that  recovery  was  impossible.  The  doctor 
happened  to  be  a  misanthrope.  He  was  not  aware 
that  in  the  Mater ia  Medica  of  Nature's  laboratory 
there  is  a  substance  called  "joy,"  which  sometimes 
effects  a  cure  when  all  else  fails  —  or,  if  he  did 
know  of  this  medicine,  he  probably  regarded  it  as 
a  quack  nostrum. 


246  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

At  all  events  this  substance  cured  old  Moggy, 
as  Willie  said,  "  in  less  than  no  time."  She  took 
such  deep  draughts  of  it,  that  she  quite  surprised 
her  old  friends.  So  did  Willie  himself.  In  fact, 
these  two  absolutely  took  to  tippling  together  on 
this  medicine.  More  than  that,  Jacky  joined  them, 
and  seemed  to  imbibe  a  good  deal  —  chiefly  through 
his  eyes,  which  were  always  very  wide  open  and 
watchful  when  he  was  in  the  old  hut.  He  drank 
to  them  only  with  his  eyes  and  ears,  and  could 
not  be  induced  to  enter  into  conversation  much 
farther  than  to  the  extent  of  yes  and  no.  Not  that 
he  was  shy  —  by  no  means  !  The  truth  was  that 
Jacky  was  being  opened  up  —  mentally.  The  new 
medicine  was  exercising  an  unconscious  but  power- 
ful influence  on  his  sagacious  spirit.  In  addition 
to  that  he  was  fascinated  by  Willie  —  for  the 
matter  of  that,  so  was  old  Moggy  —  for  did  not 
that  small  sailor-boy  sing,  and  laugh,  and  talk  to 
them  for  hours  about  sights  arid  scenes  of  foreign 
travel  of  which  neither  of  them  had  dreamed 
before  ?  Of  course  he  did,  and  caused  both  of  them 
to  stare  with  eyes  and  mouths  quite  motionless  for 
half-hours  at  a  time,  and  then  roused  •'hem  up  with 
a  ioke  that  made  Jacky  laugh  till  he  crie  1,  and 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  247 

made  Moggy,  who  was  always  crying  more  or  less, 
laugh  till  she  couldn't  cry  !  Yes,  there  was  very 
brilliant  sunshine  in  the  hut  during  that  dismal 
season  of  rain  —  there  was  the  sunshine  of  human 
love  and  sympathy,  and  Flora  was  the  means  of 
introducing  and  mingling  with  it  sunshine  of  a 
still  brighter  and  a  holier  nature,  which,  while  it 
intensified  the  other,  rendered  it  also  permanent. 

At  last  the  end  of  the  Sudberrys'  rustication 
arrived ;  the  last  day  of  their  sojourn  dawned.  It 
happened  to  be  bright  and  beautiful  —  so  bright 
and  lovely  that  it  made  one  feel  as  if  there  never 
had  been  a  bad  day  since  the  world  began,  and 
never  would  be  another  bad  one  to  the  end  of  time. 
It  was  the  fourth  fine  day  of  the  six  dreary  weeks 
—  the  third,  which  occurred  some  days  before, 
was  only  half-and-half,  and  therefore  unworthy  of 
special  notice.  Nevertheless,  the  Sudberrys  felt 
sad.  They  were  going  away  I  The  mental  sun- 
shine of  the  rainy  season  was  beclouded,  and  the 
physical  sunshine  was  of  no  avail  to  dispel  such 
clouds. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sudberry  at  breakfast  that 
morning,  in  a  A  ery  sad  tone,  "  have  you  any  further 
use  for  me  ?  " 


248  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

"My  dear,  no,"  replied  his  partner,  soirowfully. 

From  the  nature  of  these  remarks  and  the  tone 
in  which  they  were  uttered,  an  ignorant  spectator 
might  have  imagined  that  Mr.  Sudberry,  having 
suspected  his  wife  of  growing  indifference,  arid 
having  had  his  worst  fears  confirmed  from  her  own 
lips,  meant  to  go  quietly  away  to  the  river  and 
drown  him  in  a  deep  pool  with  a  strong  eddy,  so 
that  he  might  run  no  chance  of  being  prematurely 
washed  upon  a  shallow.  But  the  good  man  merely 
referred  to  "  the  packing,"  in  connection  with  which 
he  had  been  his  wife's  right  hand  during  the  last 
three  or  four  days. 

"  Well,  then,  my  love,  as  the  heavy  baggage 
has  gone  on  before,  and  we  are  ready  to  start 
with  the  coach,  which  does  not  pass  until  the 
afternoon,  I  will  go  and  take  a  last  cast  in  the 
river." 

Mrs.  Sudberry  made  no  objection;  so  Mr.  Sud- 
berry, accompanied  by  George  and  Fred,  went 
down  to  the  "  dear  old  river,"  as  they  styled  it,  for 
the  last  time. 

Now  it  must  be  known,  that,  some  weeks  previous 
to  this  time,  Hobbs  had  been  allowed  by  his  master 
to  go  out  for  a  day's  trout  fishing,  and  Hobbs,  fail- 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  •  249 

ing  to  raise  a  single  fin,  put  on  a  salmon  fly  in 
reckless  desperation. 

He  happened,  by  the  merest  chance,  to  cast  over 
a  deep  pool  in  which  salmon  were  (and  still  are) 
wont  to  lie.  To  his  amazement,  a  "  whale"  as  he 
styled  it,  instantly  rose,  sent  its  silvery  body  half 
out  of  the  water,  and  fell  over  with  a  tremendous 
splash,  but  missed  the  fly.  Hobbs  was  instantly 
affected  with  temporary  insanity.  He  cast  in 
violent  haste  over  the  same  spot,  as  if  he  hoped 
to  hook  the  fish  by  the  tail  before  it  should  get  to 
the  bottom.  Again !  again  !  and  over  again,  but 
without  result.  Then,  dancing  on  the  bank  with 
excitement,  he  changed  the  fly ;  tried  every  fly  in 
the  book ;  the  insanity  increasing,  tried  two  flies  at 
once,  back  to  back ;  put  on  a  bunch  of  trout-flies 
in  addition;  wound  several  worms  round  all;  failed 
in  every  attempt  to  cast  with  care ;  and  finished 
off  by  breaking  the  top  of  the  rod,  entangling  the 
line  round  his  legs,  and  fixing  the  hooks  in  his  coat- 
tails  ;  after  which  he  rushed  wildly  up  to  the  White 
House,  to  tell  what  he  had  seen  and  show  what  he 
had  done ! 

From  that  day  forward  Mr.  Sudberry  always 
commenced  his  day's  sport  at  the  "  Salmnu  Pool." 


250  freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

As  usual,  on  this  his  last  day,  he  went  doAvn  to  the 
salmon  pool,  but  he  had  so  often  fished  there  in 
vain,  that  hope  was  well-nigh  extinguished.  In 
addition  to  this,  his  spirits  were  depressed,  so  he 
gave  the  rod  to  Fred. 

Fred  was  not  naturally  a  fisher,  and  he  only 
agreed  to  take  the  rod  because  he  saw  that  his 
father  was  indifferent  about  it. 

"  Fred,  my  boy,  cast  a  little  farther  over,  just 
below  yon  curl  in  the  water  near  the  willow  bush 

—  ah !  that's  about  the  place.     Hobbs  declares  that 
he  raised  a  salmon  there  ;  but  I  can't  say  I've  ever 
seen  one  myself,  though  I  have  fished  here  every 
other  morning  for  many  weeks." 

Mr.  Sudberry  had  not  quite  finished  speaking 
when  Fred's  rod  was  bent  into  the  form  of  a  large 
hoop. 

"  Hallo  !  here,  father,  take  it  —  I  don't  know 
what  to  do." 

What  a  blaze  of  excitement  beamed  on  the 
father's  countenance  ! 

"  Hurrah  !  hold  on,  Fred,  —  no,  no,  no  I  ease  off 

—  he'll  break  all  away." 

The  caution  was  just  in  time.  Fred  was  holding 
on  like  a  true  Briton.  He  suddenly  let  the  rod 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  251 

down  and  allowed  the  line  to  run  out,  which  it  did 
like  lightning. 

"What  now,  father?  Oh!  do  take  it  — I  shall 
certainly  lose  the  fish." 

"  No,  no,  boy ;  it  is  your  fish ;  try  to  play  it  out." 

No  one  but  the  good  man  himself  knew  what  a 
tremendous  effort  of  self-denial  Mr.  Sudberry  made 
on  this  occasion.  But  Fred  felt  certain  that  the 
fish  would  get  off.  He  also  knew  that  his  father 
would  give  fifty  pounds  down  on  the  spot  to  land 
a  salmon  :  so  he  said  firmly,  "  Father,  if  you  don't 
take  the  rod,  I'll  throw  it  down  !  " 

This  settled  the  question.  Father  took  the  rod 
under  protest,  and,  having  had  considerable  ex- 
perience in  trout-fishing,  began  to  play  the  salmon 
with  really  creditable  skill,  considering  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  operation,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  his 
first  "  big  fish." 

What  varied  expression  flitted  across  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  enthusiastic  sportsman  on  this  great 
occasion !  He  totally  forgot  himself  and  his  sons ; 
he  forgot  even  that  this  was  his  last  day  in  the 
Highlands.  It,  is  an  open  question  whether  he  did 
not  forget  altogether  that  he  was  in  the  Highlands, 
eo  absorbed,  so  intensely  concentrated,  was  his  mind 


252  Freaks  on  the  Fells ;  or, 

on  that  salmon.  George  and  Fred  also  becamo 
so  excited  that  they  lost  all  command  of  themselves, 
and  kept  leaping  about,  cheering,  giving  useless 
advice  in  eager  tones,  tripping  over  stones  and 
uneven  places  on  the  banks,  and  following  their 
father  closely,  as  the  fish  led  him  up  and  down  the 
river  for  full  two  hours.  They,  too,  forgot  them- 
selves; they  did  not  know  what  extraordinary 
faces  they  went  on  making  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  time  1 

Mr.  Sudberry  began  the  battle  by  winding  up 
the  line,  the  salmon  having  begun  to  push  slowly 
up  stream  after  its  first  wild  burst.  In  a  moment 
it  made  a  dart  towards  the  opposite  bank,  so  sud- 
den and  swift  that  the  rod  was  pulled  straight, 
and  the  line  ran  out  with  a  whiz  of  the  most 
violent  description.  Almost  simultaneously  with 
the  whiz  the  salmon  leaped  its  entire  length  out 
of  the  water,  gave  a  tremendous  fling  in  the  air, 
and  came  down  with  a  heavy  splash ! 

Fred  gasped;  George  cheered,  and  Mr.  Sud- 
berry uttered  a  roar  of  astonishment,  mingled  with 
alarm,  for  the  line  was  slack,  and  he  thought  the 
fish  had  broken  off.  It  was  still  on,  however,  as  a 
will4  dash  down  stream,  followed  by  a  spurt  up  and 


Three  Montlis*  Rustication.  253 

across,  with  another  fling  into  tho  air,  proved  be- 
yond a  doubt.  The  fish  was  very  wild  —  fortu- 
nately it  was  well  hooked,  and  the  tackle  was 
strong.  What  with  excitement  and  the  violent 
action  that  ensued  at  each  rus1!,  Mr.  Sudberry  was 
so  dreadfully  blown  in  the  first  minutes,  that  he 
trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  could  scarce  wind 
up  the  line.  For  one  moment  the  thought  occurred 
that  he  Was  too  old  to  become  a  salmon-fisher,  and 
that  he  would  not  be  able  to  fight  the  battle  out. 
He  was  quite  mistaken.  Every  minute  after  this 
he  seemed  to  gain  fresh  strength.  The  salmon 
happily  took  it  into  his  head  to  cease  its  antics  for 
half  a  minute,  just  when  the  fisher  was  at  his 
worst.  That  half-minute  of  breathing-space  was 
all  that  was  wanted. 

"  Geo'ge  —  hah  !  —  cut  —  wata !  " 

George  could  not  make  out  what  his  agitated 
parent  wanted. 

"  Water !  water  !  —  chokin' !  "  reiterated  his 
father. 

"  Oh,  all  right !  "  George  scooped  up  a  quantity 
of  water  in  a  leathern  cup,  and  ran  with  it  to  his 
choking  sire,  who,  holding  the  rod  tight  with  both 
hands,  turned  his  head  aside  and  stretched  over  hia 


254  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

left  arm,  still,  however,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  line. 

"  Here,  up  with't  lips." 

The  lips  were  projected,  and  George  raised  the 
cup  to  them,  but  the  salmon  moved  at  the  moment, 
and  the  draught  was  postponed.  The  fish  came  to 
another  pause  soon  after. 

"  Now,  Geo'ge,  try  'gain." 

Once  more  the  lips  were  projected,  once  again 
the  cup  was  raised,  but  that  salmon  seemed  to 
know  what  was  going  on,  for,  just  as  the  cup  and 
the  lips  met,  it  went  off  in  an  unusually  fierce  run 
down  the  river.  The  cup  and  its  contents  were 
knocked  into  George's  face,  and  George  himself 
was  knocked  over  by  his  father  as  he  sprang  down 
the  bank,  and  ran  along  a  dry  patch  of  gravel, 
which  extended  to  the  tail  of  the  pool. 

Hitherto  the  battle  had  been  fought  within  the 
limits  of  one  large  pool,  which  the  fish  seemed  to 
have  an  objection  to  quit.  It  now  changed  its  tac- 
tics, and  began  to  decend  the  river  tail  foremost, 
slowly,  but  steadily.  The  round  face  of  the  fisher, 
which  had  all  this  time  been  blazing  red  with 
eager  hope,  was  now  beclouded  with  a  shade  of 
anxiety. 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  25& 

"  Don't  let  him  go  down  the  rapids,  father,"  said 
George;  "you'll  never  get  past  the  thick  bushes 
that  overhang  the  bank." 

Mr.  Sudberry  stopped,  and  held  on  till  the  rod 
bent  like  a  giant  hoop  and  the  line  became  rigid ; 
but  the  fish  was  not  to  be  checked.  Its  retrograde 
movement  was  slow,  but  steady  and  irresistible. 

"  You'll  smash  every  thing ! "  cried  Fred.  Mr. 
Sudberry  was  constrained  to  follow,  step  by  step. 
The  head  of  the  rapid  was  gained,  and  he  had  to 
increase  the  pace  to  a  quick  walk;  still  farther 
down,  and  the  walk  became  a  smart  run.  The 
ground  here  was  more  rugged,  and  the  fisher's 
actions  became  quite  acrobatic.  George  and  Fred 
kept  higher  up  the  bank,  and  ran  along,  gazing  in 
unspeakable  amazement  at  the  bounds  and  leaps 
which  their  fat  little  sire  made  with  the  agility  of 
a  roe  deer. 

"  Hold  on  !  the  bushes  !  let  it  break  off  I " 

Mr.  Sudberry  scorned  the  advice.  The  part  of 
the  bank  before  him  was  impassable ;  not  so  the 
river,  which  rushed  past  him  like  a  mill-race.  He 
tried  once  more  to  stop  the  fish ;  failed,  of  course, 
and  deliberately  walked  into  the  water.  It  was 
waist  deep  so  he  was  carried  down  like  a  cork 


256  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

with  his  toes  touching  the  ground  so  lightly,  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  rejoiced  in  those 
sensations,  which  he  had  hitherto  believed  be- 
longed exclusively  to  harlequins  and  columbines; 
namely,  swift  motion  without  effort !  Fifty  yards 
at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour  brought  him  to  an 
eddy,  into  which  the  salmon  had  dashed  just  before 
him.  Mr.  Sudberry  gave  vent  to  another  roar  as 
he  beheld  the  fish  almost  under  his  nose.  The 
startled  creature  at  once  flashed  out  of  his  sight, 
and  swept  up,  down,  and  across  the  stream  several 
times,  besides  throwing  one  or  two  somersaults  in 
the  air,  before  it  recovered  its  equanimity.  After 
this  it  bolted  into  a  deep,  dark  pool,  and  remained 
there  quite  motionless. 

Mr.  Sudberry  was  much  puzzled  at  this  point. 
To  let  out  line  when  the  fish  ran  up  or  across 
stream,  to  wind  in  when  the  fish  stopped,  and  to 
follow  when  the  fish  went  down  stream  —  these 
principles  he  had  been  taught  by  experience  in 
trout-fishing ;  but  how  to  act  when  a  fish  would 
not  move  and  could  not  be  made  to  move  was  a 
lesson  which  he  had  yet  to  learn. 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  look  of 
exasperation  (and  no  wonder ;  he  had  experienced 


Three  Months'  Rustication.  257 

an  hour  and  a  quarter  of  very  rough  treatment, 
and  was  getting  fagged).  • 

"  Pull  him  out  oft  that  hole,"  suggested  George. 

"  I  can't." 

"  Try." 

Mr.  Sudberry  tried  and  failed.  Having  failed 
he  sat  down  on  a  stone,  still  holding  the  rod  very 
tight,  and  wiped  his  heated  brow.  Then,  starting 
up,  he  tried  for  the  next  ten  minutes  to  pull  the 
fish  out  of  the  hole  by  main  force,  of  course  never 
venturing  to  pull  so  hard  as  to  break  the  line.  He 
went  up  the  stream  and  pulled,  down  the  stream 
and  pulled,  he  even  waded  across  the  stream  at  a 
shallow  part  and  pulled,  but  all  in  vain.  The  fish 
was  in  that  condition  which  fishers  term  "the 
sulks." 

At  last  Fred  recollected  to  have  heard  Hector 
Macdonald  say  that  in  such  cases  a  stone  thrown 
into  the  pool  sometimes  had  the  effect  of  starting 
the  sulky  one.  Accordingly  a  stone  was  thrown 
in,  and  the  result  was  that  the  fish  came  out  ac 
full  speed  in  a  horrible  fright,  and  went  down 
stream,  not  tail  but  head  foremost.  Now,  when 
a  salmon  does  this,  he  knows  by  instinct  that  if 
he  does  not  go  down  faster  than  the  stream  the 

17 


258  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

water  will  force  itself  into  his  gills  and  drown 
him ;  therefore  when  he  goes  down  head  first 
(which  he  seldom  does,  except  when  on  his  way 
to  the  sea),  he  goes  at  full  speed,  and  the  fisher's 
only  chance  of  saving  his  fish  is  to  run  after  him 
as  fast  as  he  can,  in  the  hope  that  he  may  pause  of 
his  own  accord  in  some  opportune  eddy. 

A  fine  open  space  of  bank  enabled  Mr.  Sud- 
berry  to  run  like  a  deer  after  his  fish  for  nigh  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  but,  at  the  end  of  this  burst, 
he  drew  near  to  "  the  falls "  —  a  succession  of 
small  cataracts  and  rapids  which  it  seemed  impos- 
sible for  any  fisher  to  go  down  without  breaking 
his  neck  and  losing  his  fish.  George  and  Fred 
roared,  "  Hold  on  1 "  Mr.  Sudberry  glanced  at 
the  falls,  frowned,  and  compressed  his  lips.  He 
felt  that  he  was  "  in  for  it ; "  he  resolved  not  to 
be  beat,  so  on  he  went !  The  fish  went  right 
down  the  first  fall ;  the  fisher  leaped  over  a  ledge 
of  rock  three  feet  high,  scrambled  across  some 
rough  ground,  and  pulled  up  at  an  eddy  where 
the  fish  seemed  disposed  to  rest.  He  was  grati- 
fied here  by  seeing  the  fish  turn  up  the  white  of 
his  side  —  thus  showing  symptoms  of  exhaustion. 
But  he  recovered,  and  went  over  another  fall, 


Three  MontlLS1  Rustication.  259 

Here  he  stopped  again,  and  George  and  Fred, 
feeling  convinced  that  their  father  had  gone  mad, 
threw  off  their  coats  and  ran  to  the  foot  of  the 
fall,  ready  to  plunge  into  the  stream  and  rescue 
him  from  the  fate  which  they  thought  they  saw 
impending.  No  such  fate  awaited  the  daring  man. 
He  succeeded  in  drawing  the  fish  close  to  a  grav- 
elly shallow,  where  it  gave  an  exhausted  wallop  or 
two,  and  lay  over  on  its  side.  George  came  up, 
and  leaping  into  the  water  tried  to  kick  it  out. 
He  missed  his  kick  and  feU.  Fred  dashed  in,  and 
also  missed.  Mr.  Sudberry  rushed  forward  and 
gave  the  salmon  such  a  kick  that  he  sent  it  high 
and  dry  on  the  bank !  But  in  doing  so  he  fell 
over  George  and  tripped  up  Fred,  so  that  all 
three  were  instantly  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  re- 
turned to  the  bank  without  their  hats.  Mr.  Sud- 
berry flung  himself  on  the  conquered  fish  and 
held  it  fast,  while  George  and  Fred  cheered  and 
danced  round  him  in  triumphant  joy. 

Thus  Mr.  Sudberry  landed  his  first  and  last 
salmon  —  a  ten-pounder  —  and  thus,  brilliantly, 
terminated  his  three-months'  rustication  in  the 
Highlands. 


260  Freaks  on  the  Fells;  or, 

But  this  was  not  the  end  of  the  whole  affair  — 
by  no  means.  Mr.  Sudberry  and  family  returned 
to  London,  and  they  took  that  salmon  with  them. 
A  dinner-party  of  choice  friends  was  hastily  got 
up  to  do  honor  to  the  superb  fish,  and  on  that 
occasion  Fred  and  his  father  well-nigh  quarrelled 
on  the  point  of  "  who  caught  the  salmon  " !  Mr. 
Sudberry  insisting  that  the  man  who  hooked  the 
fish  was  the  real  catcher  of  it,  and  Fred  scouting 
the  ridiculous  notion,  and  asserting  that  he  who 
played  and  landed  it  was  entitled  to  all  the  honor. 
The  point  was  settled,  however,  in  some  incompre- 
hensible way,  without  the  self-denying  disputants 
coming  to  blows ;  and  every  one  agreed  that  it  was, 
out  of  sight,  the  best  salmon  that  had  ever  been 
eaten  in  London.  Certainly,  it  was  one  of  the 
merriest  parties  that  ever  ate  a  salmon,  for  Mr. 
Sudberry's  choice  friends  were  of  an  uncommonly 
genial  stamp.  Jones,  the  head  clerk  (the  man  with 
the  red  nose  and  humble  aspect),  was  there,  and 
so  brilliant  was  Mr.  Sudberry  that  Jones  was  ob- 
served to  smile  1  —  the  first  instance  on  record 
of  his  having  given  way  to  levity  of  demeanor. 
Lady  Knownothing  was  there  too,  and  before  the 
evening  was  over  she  knew  a  few  things  that  sur- 


Three  Months'  Eustication.  261 

prised  but  did  not  in  the  least  convince  her.  Oh, 
no  !  she  knew  everything  so  thoroughly  that  there 
was  no  possibility  on  earth  of  increasing  her  stock 
of  knowledge !  Truly  it  was  a  happy  party,  and 
Mr.  Sudberry  enjoyed  himself  so  much  that  he 
volunteered  the  Highland  fling  in  the  drawing- 
room  —  George  whistling  the  music  —  on  which 
occasion  he  (Mr.  S.)  swept  nearly  half  the  tea- 
service  off  the  table  with  his  coat-tails,  and  Mrs. 
S.  was  so  happy  that  she  didn't  care  a  button  — 
and  said  so ! 

But  this  was  not  the  end  of  it  yet,  by  any  means. 
That  winter  Hector  and  Flora  Macdonald  visited 
London  and  were  received  by  the  Sudberrys  with 
open  arms.  The  result  was  that  Lucy  became 
intensely  botanical  in  her  tastes,  and  routed  out 
the  old  plants.  Of  course  Hector  could  not  do  less 
than  assist  her,  and  the  finale  was,  that  these  two 
scientific  individuals  were  married,  and  dwelt  for 
many  years  thereafter  in  the  Highlands.  Strange 
to  say,  George  and  Flora  fell  in  love  with  each  — 
But  why  say  more  ?  We  do  not  mean  to  write  the 
history  of  these  two  families.  It  is  enough  to  say, 
that  every  summer,  for  many  years  after  that,  the 
Sudberrys  spent  two  or  three  months  in  the  High- 


262  Freaks  on  the  Fells. 

lands  with  the  Macdonalds,  and  every  winter  the 
Macdonalds  spent  a  similar  period  with  the  Sud- 
berrys.  On  the  former  of  these  occasions  Fred  re- 
newed his  intercourse  with  Mr.  McAllister,  and 
these  two  became  so  profoundly,  inconceivably, 
deep  and  metaphysical,  besides  theological,  in  their 
converse,  that  they  were  utterly  incomprehensible 
to  every  one  except  themselves. 

Best  of  all,  Jacky  became  a  good  boy  !  Yes ; 
that  day  on  the  hills  with  Peter  was  the  beginning 
of  it  —  old  Moggy,  Willie,  and  Flora,  were  the  con- 
tinuation of  it  —  and  Jacky  became  good,  to  the 
unspeakable  joy  of  his  mother. 

Old  Moggy  lived  to  a  fabulous  age,  and  became 
at  last  as  wrinkled  as  a  red  herring.  For  all  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  she  may  be  alive  yet.  "Wil- 
lie lived  with  her,  and  became  a  cultivator  of  the 
soil.  But  why  go  on  ?  Enough  has  been  said  to 
show  that  no  ill  befell  any  individual  mentioned  in 
our  tale.  Even  Mrs.  Brown  lived  to  a  good  old 
age,  and  was  a  female  dragon  to  the  last.  Enough 
has  also  been  said  to  prove,  that,  as  the  old  song 
has  it,  "we  little  know  what  great  things  from 
little  things  may  r.\se." 


WHY  I  DID  NOT  BECOME  A  SAILOE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THERE  is  mystery  connected  with  the  incidents 
which  I  am  about  to  relate.  Looked  at  from  one 
point  of  view,  the  whole  affair  is  mysterious  — 
eminently  so ;  yet,  regarded  from  another  point  of 
view,  it  is  not  so  mysterious  as  it  seems.  What- 
ever my  reader  may  think  about  it  as  he  goes 
along,  I  entreat  him  to  suspend  his  judgment  until 
he  has  reached  the  conclusion  of  my  narrative. 
My  only  reason  for  bringing  this  mysterious  mat- 
ter before  the  public  is,  that,  in  addition  to  filling 
me  with  unutterable  surprise,  it  had  the  effect  of 
quenching  one  of  my  strongest  desires,  and  effect- 
ually prevented  my  becoming  a  sailor. 

This,  I  freely  admit,  is  not  in  itself  a  sufficient 
reason  to  justify  my  rushing  into  print.  But  when 
I  regard  the  matter  from  what  may  be  termed  a 
negative  point  of  view,  I  do  feel  that  it  is  not 
absolutely  presumptuous  in  me  to  claim  public 

263 


264  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

attention.  .  Suppose  that  Sir  John  Franklin  had 
never  gone  to  sea ;  what  a  life  of  adventure  and 
discovery  would  have  been  lost  to  the  world ! 
what  deeds  of  heroism  undone,  and,  therefore, 
untold !  I  venture  to  think,  that  if  that  great 
navigator  had  not  gone  to  sea,  it  would  have  been 
a  matter  of  interest  (knowing  what  we  now  know) 
to  have  been  told  that  such  was  the  case.  In  this 
view  of  the  matter  I  repeat  it,  as  being  of  possible 
future  interest,  that  the  incident  I  am  about  to  re- 
late prevented  my  becoming  a  sailor. 

I  am  said  to  be  a  soft  boy  —  that  is  to  say,  I  was 
said  to  be  soft.  I'm  a  man  now,  but,  of  course,  I 
was  a  boy  once.  I  merely  mention  this  to  prove 
that  I  make  no  pretension  whatever  to  unusual 
wisdom;  quite  the  reverse.  I  hate  sailing  under 
false  colors  —  not  that  I  ever  did  sail  under  any 
colors,  never  having  become  a  sailor  —  and  yet  I 
shouldn't  say  that,  either,  for  that's  the  very  point 
round  which  all  the  mystery  hangs.  I  did  go  to 
sea!  I'm  rather  apt  to  wander,  I  find,  from  my 
point,  and  to  confuse  my  own  mind  (I  trust  not 
the  reader's).  Perhaps  the  shortest  way  to  let 
you  understand  how  it  was  is  to  tell  you  ah 
about  it. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  265 

My  name  is  Robert  Smith  —  not  an  unusual 
name,  I  am  given  to  understand.  It  was  of  little 
use  to  me  during  the  period  of  my  boyhood,  for  I 
never  got  any  other  name  than  Bob  —  sometimes 
soft  was  added.  I  had  a  father.  He  loved  me. 
As  a  natural  consequence,  I  loved  him.  He  was 
old,  partially  bald,  silver-haired,  kind,  affectionate, 
good,  five  feet  six,  and  wore  spectacles.  I,  at  the 
time  I  write  of,  was  young,  stout,  well-grown,  ac- 
tive, and  had  a  long  nose  —  much  too  long  a  nose : 
it  was  the  only  point  in  regard  to  which  I  was  sen- 
sitive. It  was  owing  to  the  length  of  this  mem- 
ber, I  believe,  that  I  once  went  by  the  name  of 
Mozambique.  You  see,  I  conceal  nothing.  The 
remarkable — the  mysterious — the  everyway  as- 
tonishing incidents  I  am  about  to  relate,  require 
that  I  should  be  more  than  usually  careful  and  par- 
ticular in  stating  things  precisely  as  I  saw  them 
and  understood  them  at  the  time. 

In  this  view  of  the  matter  I  should  remark  that 
the  softness  with  which  I  was  charged  did  not  re- 
fer to  my  muscles — they  were  hard  and  well  de- 
veloped—  but  to  my  intellect.  I  take  this  oppor- 
tunity of  stating  that  I  think  the  charge  unjust. 
But,  to  conclude  my  description  of  myself,  I  am 


266  Why  1  did  not  become  a  St.  ilor. 

romantic.  One  of  my  dearest  companions  used  to 
say  that  my  nose  was  tne  same,  minus  the  tic! 
What  he  meant  by  that  I  never  could  make  out.  I 
doubt  if  he  himself  knew. 

My  chief  delight  in  my  leisure  hours  was  to  re- 
tire to  my  bed-room  and  immerse  myself  in  books 
of  travel  and  adventur.e.  This  was  my  mania.  No 
one  can  conceive  the  delight  I  experienced  in  fol- 
lowing heroes  of  every  name  over  the  pathless 
deep  and  through  the  trackless  forests  of  every 
clime.  My  heart  swelled  within  me,  and  the  blood 
rushed  through  my  veins  like  liquid  fire,  as  I  read 
of  chasing  lions,  tigers,  elephants,  in  Africa ;  white 
bears  and  walrus  in  the  Polar  regions ;  and  deer 
and  bisons  on  the  American  prairies.  I  struggled 
long  to  suppress  the  flame  that  consumed  me,  but 
I  could  not.  It  grew  hotter  and  hotter.  At  last, 
it  burst  forth  —  and  this  brings  me  to  the  point. 

I  thought  —  one  dark,  dismal  night  in  the  middle 
of  November  —  I  thought  (mind,  I  don't  say  I  de- 
termined; no,  but  I  thought)  of  running  away 
from  home  and  going  to  seal 

I  confess  it  with  shame.  The  image  of  my  dear 
father  rose  before  me  with  a  kind  and  sorrowful 
look.  I  repented ;  started  to  my  feet,  and  seized 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  267 

the  book  I  was  reading  with  the  intention  of  toss- 
ing it  into  the  fire.  In  doing  so,  I  accidentally 
turned  over  a  leaf.  There  was  an  illustration  on 
the  page.  I  looked  at  it.  An  African  savage 
firing  the  whole  contents  of  a  six-barrelled  revol- 
ver down  the  throat  of  a  Bengal  tiger,  without,  ap- 
parently, doing  it  any  harm  !  I  thought  not  of  the 
incongruous  combination.  My  soul  was  fired 
anew.  Once  again  I  thought  of  running  away 
from  home  and  going  to  sea  —  not  by  any  means 
with  the  intention  of  remaining  at  sea,  but  for  the 
purpose  of  reaching  foreign  —  if  possible  —  un- 
known lands. 

Having  conceived  the  thought,  I  rose  calmly, 
shut  the  book  carefully,  but  with  decision,  thrust 
my  hands  firmly  into  my  pockets,  knitted  my 
brows,  and  went  out  in  search  of  my  bosom  friend 
John  Brown  —  also  a  commonplace  name,  I  be- 
lieve—  at  least,  so  it  is  said. 

Jack,  as  I  used  to  call  him,  had  a  mother,  but  no 
father  —  his  father  died  when  Jack  was  an  infant. 
I've  often  fancied  that  there  was  a  delicate  bond 
of  union  between  us  here.  He  had  a  mother,  but 
no  father.  I  had  a  father,  but  no  mother.  Strange 
coincidence  1  I  think  the  fact  helped  to  draw  us 


268  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

together.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  think  so.  Jack 
was  on  a  visit  to  us  at  the  time,  so  I  had  only  to 
cross  the  passage  to  reach  his  room. 

"  Come  in,"  he  cried,  as  I  knocked. 

"  Jack,  come  to  my  room.  It's  more  comfortable 
than  yours.  I  want  your  advice." 

He  rose,  in  some  surprise,  and  followed  me. 

If  John  Brown's  name  was  commonplace  his 
person  was  certainly  not  so.  He  looked  like  a 
young  lord.  He  was  a  noble  fellow,  by  nature  if 
not  by  birth.  A  clear,  sunny  face,  masculine  chin 
and  nose,  sweet,  firm  mouth,  the  eye  of  an  eagle, 
and  the  soft,  curly,  golden  hair  of  a  child.  Tall, 
broad-shouldered,  elegant,  bold  as  a  lion,  gentle 
and  kind  as  a  lamb  —  such  was  my  best,  my  dear- 
est friend,  Jack. 

"  Jack,"  said  I,  "  I'm  going  to  run  away !  " 

My  friend  fell  into  a  chair,  put  both  legs  straight 
out,  and  looked  at  me  in  speechless  amazement  for 
a  second ;  then  he  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit 
of  laughter. 

"  Jack,"  I  repeated,  "  I'm  going  to  run  away." 

"  You'tt  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  he. 

"And,"  I  continued,  regardless  of  his  remark, 
"  I  mean  that  ya  i  shall  run  away  with  me." 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  269 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  replied.  "  But 
come,  Bob,  my  boy,  you're  joking.  Surely  this  is 
riot  the  object  for  which  you  called  me  out  of  my 
room." 

"  Indeed  it  is.  Listen  to  me,  Jack."  (I  looked 
at  him  impressively.  He  returned  the  look,  for 
Jack  was  earnest  as  well  as  gay.)  "You  know 
that  my  dear  father  positively  refused  to  let  me  go 
abroad,  although  I  have  entreated  him  to  do  so 
again  and  again.  Now  I  think  that's  hard,  you 
know.  I  love  my  dear  father  very  much,  but "  — 

"  You  love  yourself  better.     Is  that  it  ?  " 

"Well,  put  it  so  if  you  choose.  I  don't  care. 
I'm  going  to  run  away,  and  if  you  won't  go  with 
me  you  can  stay  at  home  —  that's  all." 

"Come,  come,  Bob,  don't  be  cross,"  said  Jack, 
kindly ;  "  you  know  you  don't  mean  it." 

"  But  I  do ;  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  what  it  is 
that  prevents  you  from  going  too,"  said  I,  testily. 

"  H'm !  well,  there  is  a  small  matter,  a  sort  of 
moral  idea,  so  to  speak,  that  prevents." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"Respect  for  my  mother!  Bob,  my  boy,  I've 
been  too  deeply  imbued  with  that  in  my  babyhood 
to  shake  it  off  now,  even  if  I  wished  to  do  so ;  but 


270  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

I  don't,  Bob,  I  don't.  I'm  proud  of  my  mother, 
and,  moreover,  I  remember  her  teachings.  There's 
one  little  verse  I  used  to  repeat  to  her  every  Sun- 
day night,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  ten  command- 
ments, '  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,'  &c.  It 
seems  to  me  that  running  away  is  rather  flying  in 
the  face  of  that.  Doesn't  it  strike  you  in  that 
light,  Bob  ?  " 

I  was  silent.  I  felt  that  I  had  no  argument 
against  such  reasoning.  Jack  rose. 

"  It's  late,  Bob ;  we  are  to  start  on  our  fishing 
expedition  to-morrow  morning  at  six,  so  it  behooves 
us  to  get  into  bed.  Good-night !  and  think  ovor 
it!" 

I  seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"  Good-night,  Jack,  I  will  I " 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  271 


CHAPTER    H. 

MY  bedroom  was  a  small  one,  with  little  furai 
ture  in  it.  A  small  iron  stove  in  the  fireplace 
acted  instead  of  a  grate,  and  as  I  was  accustomed 
to  read  late  my  father  allowed  me  to  light  it  in 
cold  weather.  It  was  blazing  cheerfully  when 
Jack  left  me,  and  the  bright  gleams  of  ruddy 
light  that  darted  through  the  chinks  of  the  door 
and  fell  on  the  opposite  wall,  threw  the  light  of  my 
solitary  candle  quite  into  the  shade. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  the  night  was 
dark  and  dismal.  In  addition  to  that,  it  was 
stormy.  The  wind  moaned  drearily  among  the 
venerable  elms  that  surrounded  our  quiet  country 
residence,  and  ever  and  anon  came  in  sharp,  fitful 
gusts  that  caused  the  window-frames  to  rattle,  and 
even  shook  the  house,  at  times,  to  its  foundation. 
Heavy  drops  of  rain  fell  occasionally  on  the  win- 
dow-panes, and  in  a  few  minutes  the  storm  broke 
forth  in  full  violence. 

As  the  old  house  had  stood  many  such  in  years 


272  Wit y  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

gone  by,  1  did  not  give  myself  much  concern 
about  the  gale ;  but  pulled  down  the  blind,  placed 
my  little  table  and  books  near  the  stove,  and,  draw- 
ing in  my  chair,  sat  down  to  think.  How  long  I 
remained  in  this  condition  I  cannot  tell;  but  my 
reveries  were  broken  by  the  large  clock  on  the 
stairs  striking  twelve. 

I  started  up,  and  clinching  my  hands  exclaimed 
aloud,  "  No !  I've  made  up  my  mind,  I  won't  run 
away ! "  Under  the  impulse  of  the  feeling  I  threw 
open  the  door  of  the  stove  and  heaped  on  fresh 
coals,  muttering  to  myself,  as  I  did  so,  "  No,  I 
won't  run  away,  I  won't  run  away ;  no,  no,  no,  I 
won't  run  a  —  eh  ! " 

I  was  checked  suddenly  by  my  eye  falling  a 
second  time  on  that  terrific  African  savage  sending 
from  his  revolver  a  charge  down  the  throat  of  that 
magnificent  Bengal  tiger  that  would  have  blown 
the  inside  entirely  out  of  any  living  creature 
smaller  than  an  elephant.  I  sat  down.  I  gazed 
at  the  picture.  I  read  the  account.  I  followed  up 
the  adventurous  savage.  My  head  reeled  with  ex- 
citement. A  strange  terrible  heat  seemed  to  dart 
like  lightning  through  my  veins,  and  the  book  be- 
gan to  flicker  before  my  eyes.  I  became  alarmed. 


Why  1  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  273 

"  Surely  some  terrible  fever  is  seizing  on  me ! "  I 
exclaimed,  and  in  the  terror  of  the  thought  I 
started  up  and  paced  my  room  rapidly.  But  the 
fire  increased,  and  my  head  swam.  I  meditated 
ringing  the  bell  and  alarming  the  household ;  but 
the  thought  of  this  quieted  me,  and  gradually  I 
became  calmer. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  my  former  resolution 
returned  upon  me  with  tenfold  violence.  "  I'll 
submit  to  this  no  longer,"  I  growled  between  my 
teeth ;  "  I  will  run  away !  " 

The  instant  I  said  that,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  im- 
bued with  a  determination  that  nothing  could 
shake.  Jack's  reasoning  never  once  came  into 
my  mind.  I  took  down  the  knapsack  that  hung 
on  a  nail  ready  packed  for  the  intended  fishing 
expedition  of  the  morrow.  I  buckled  it  on ;  put 
on  my  thickest  shoes,  and,  seizing  a  stout  cudgel, 
issued  softly  from  my  apartment,  and  tapped 
gently  at  Jack's  door.  —  "  Come  in ! " 

I  entered,  and  was  overwhelmed  with  surprise 
at  finding  my  friend  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  accoutred  foi  the  road  just  like  myself.  Ho 
put  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

"  Hush !  Bob.     I  was  on  the  point  of  goin  g  to 

18 


274  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

your  room  to  say  that  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
run  away  with  you." 

I  was  staggered.  I  did  not  relish  this  unac- 
countable change.  If  I  had  persuaded  him  to  go, 
it  would  have  been  all  right ;  but  to  find  him  thus 
ready  and  eager  was  unnatural.  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  accountable  for  this  change  in  his  opinions 
and  actions,  and  immediately,  strange  to  say,  ex- 
perienced a  tendency  to  dissuade  him. 

"But,  Jack,  you  forget  what  you  said  to  me 
some  hours  ago." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  he  answered,  gloomily. 

"  Perhaps  we'd  better  think  over  it  again." 

"No,  we  won't.  Come,  Bob,  don't  show  the 
white  feather  now.  Don't  waste  time.  It's 
about  dawn.  It's  too  late  to  reason.  You  have 
tempted  me,  and  I  have  given  in." 

Saying  this,  he  seized  me  by  the  collar  and 
pushed  me  before  him. 

And  now  the  mysterious  events  which  I  am 
about  to  relate  began.  The  conduct  of  my  friend 
Jack  on  this  occasion  was  in  itself  a  mystery.  He 
was  by  nature  the  gentlest  and  most  inoffensive 
of  human  beings,  except  when  circumstances 
required  him  to  act  vigorously:  then  he  was  a 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  275 

lion  —  irresistible.  Since  the  commencement  of 
our  acquaintance,  which  was  of  many  years' 
standing,  he  had  never  by  word  or  look  given 
me  the  slightest  cause  for  anger ;  and  yet  here 
he  was  grasping  me  violently  by  the  collar  and 
pushing  me  forcibly  before  him. 

I  did  not  get  angry.  My  conscience  smote  me. 
I  said  to  myself,  "Ah  !  this  is  the  result  of  evil 
conduct.  I  have  tempted  Jack  to  act  against  his 
judgment ;  he  is  no  longer  what  he  was." 

Instead  of  melting  under  this  feeling,  I  became 
hardened.  I  stepped  out,  and  so  dragged  my 
friend  after  me  down  the  back  stairs  which  led  to 
the  lower  part  of  the  house,  where  the  servants 
slept.  Jack  whispered  "All  right,"  and  let  go 
his  hold. 

"Now  we  must  be  cautious,"  I  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  as  we  proceeded  to  traverse  the  passage,  on 
each  side  of  which  were  the  rooms  occupied  by 
the  servants.  We  took  off  our  shoes  and  advanced 
on  tiptoe.  At  the  far  end  of  the  passage  we  heard 
a  sound  like  a  trombone.  That  was  the  butler  ; 
we  knew  of  his  snoring  propensities,  and  so  were 
not  alarmed.  His  door  was  open;  so  was  his 
meuith  —  I  could  see  that  plainly,  as  I  passed,  by 


276  Why  1  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

the  dim  light  of  a  candle  which  he  always  burned 
at  night.  The  butler  was  excessively  fat.  I  merely 
mention  this  because  it  accounts  for  the  fact  of  his 
not  awaking  when  we  unlocked  the  street  door. 
Fat  people  are  not  easily  wakened. 

The  lock  of  the  door  was  an  old-fashioned  largo 
one.  It  grated  slightly  as  Jack  turned  the  key; 
then  at  a  certain  point  the  key  lost  control  over  it, 
and  it  shot  back  with  a  report  like  a  pistol-shot! 
My  heart  flew  to  my  mouth,  and  almost  choked 
me.  The  butler  gave  a  double  snort  and  turned 
in  his  bed  as  Jack  and  I  darted  round  an  angle  of 
the  wall  and  hid  in  a  dark  corner.  The  butler 
soon  gave  unquestionable  evidence  that  he  had  not 
been  thoroughly  aroused,  and  we  were  about  to 
issue  from  our  place  of  concealment,  when  the 
door  of  our  man-servant's  room  opened,  and  he 
peeped  out.  Edwards  —  that  was  his  name  — 
was  a  stout  young  fellow,  and  we  felt  certain  that 
he  would  not  rest  satisfied  until  he  had  found  out 
the  cause  of  the  noise. 

We  were  right.  He  stepped  cautiously  into  the 
passage  with  a  poker  in  his  hand.  My  heart  sank 
within  me.  Just  at  that  moment  a  cat  darted 
across  the  passage  with  its  back  and  tail  up  and 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  277 

^ts  eyes  glaring.  Edwards  flung  the  poker  at  it, 
missed  the  cat,  and  knocked  over  an  old  tin  um- 
brella stand,  with  which  the  poker  made  a  hideous 
clatter  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  passage. 

"  Ha  !  you  brute  !  Wot  ?  it's  you  as  is  makin* 
all  that  row,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  Edwards,  what's  happened  ?  "  cried  & 
shrill  voice  from  the  other  end  of  the  passage  —  it 
was  cook. 

"  Oh,  nothin',  only  the  cat,"  replied  the  man  aa 
he  sauntered  into  the  butler's  room.  The  butler 
seemed  at  that  moment  to  have  been  smitten  with 
a  fit  of  apoplexy  —  we  could  see  him  from  our 
dark  corner ;  —  he  grew  purple  in  the  face,  gasped 
once  or  twice,  choked  awfully,  and  then  sat  up  in 
bed  staring  like  a  maniac. 

"  Oh  I  Jack,"  I  whispered  in  horror. 

"  Don't  bo  alarmed ;  it's  only  his  usual  way  of 
waking  up.  I've  seen  him  do  it  often." 

"What  noise  is  that?  What's  going  on  down 
there  ? "  cried  a  deep  bass  voice  in  the  distance. 
It  was  my  father.  No  one  replied.  Presently  my 
father's  bedroom  bell  rang  with  extreme  violence. 
Edwards  rushed  out  of  the  butler's  room.  The 
butler  fell  back,  opened  his  mouth,  and  pretended 


278  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

to  bo  asleep  —  snoring  moderately.  This  of  itself 
would  have  undeceived  any  one,  for  when  the  old 
hypocrite  was  really  asleep  he  never  snored  mod- 
erately. The  cook  and  housemaid  uttered  two 
little  shrieks  and  slammed  their  respective  doors, 
while  the  bell  rang  violently  a  second  time. 

"  Now  for  it,"  whispered  Jack.  He  opened  the 
back  door  softly,  and  we  darted  out.  A  streak  of 
pale  light  on  the  horizon  indicated  the  approach 
of  day.  We  tried  to  close  the  door  behind  us,  but 
we  heard  the  butler  choke,  gasp,  and  shout  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "Hi!  hallo!"  At  the  same  in- 
stant the  old  dinner-gong  sent  a  peal  of  horrible 
sound  through  the  house,  and  we  took  to  flight 
filled  with  unutterable  terror. 

Oh,  how  we  did  run !  We  had  scarcely  cleared 
the  offices  and  got  fairly  into  the  avenue  when  we 
heard  Edwards  shout  as  he  started  in  pursuit. 

We  were  both  good  runners,  but  Jack  soon  took 
the  lead,  and  kept  it  by  about  five  yards.  Our 
feet  scarcely  touched  the  ground.  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  wings,  so  great  was  my  terror.  We  reached 
the  end  of  the  avenue.  The  gate  was  full  five 
feet  high.  To  my  inexpressible  amazement,  Jack 
went  clear  over  it  with  one  bound  ! 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  279 

1  have  never  been  able  to  analyze  my  feelings 
and  impulf  es  on  that  occasion.  I  am  and  always 
was  rather  a  poor  jumper ;  yet,  without  hesitation, 
without  even  a  doubt  as  to  my  ability  to  clear  it,  I 
went  at  that  gate  like  an  Irish  hunter  at  a  stone 
wall,  and  leaped  fairly  over  it !  The  leap  did  not 
even  check  my  pace  for  an  instant.  I  remember, 
in  the  whirl  and  confusion  of  the  moment,  that  I 
attributed  my  almost  superhuman  powers  to  terror ; 
but  the  feeling  that  we  were  pursued  again  ab- 
sorbed all  my  faculties. 

We  dashed  on  at  a  killing  pace,  and,  strange  to 
say,  without  feeling  the  slightest  fatigue.  Having 
cleared  the  avenue,  we  mounted  the  high  grpund 
in  the  neighborhood,  passed  the  church,  entered 
the  village,  and  went  through  it  like  a  railway 
train;  came  out  upon  the  road  beyond,  and  reached 
a  wooded  part  of  the  country  where  several  roads 
and  by-paths  diverged  from  the  highway.  All  this 
time  Edwards  kept  close  on  our  heels.  He  did  not 
gain  on  us,  but  we  felt  that  we  did  not  distance 
him.  "  Down  here  ! "  cried  Jack,  doubling  sud- 
denly into  a  lane. 

WB  passed  a  small  bridge  that  crossed  a  mill- 
Iak3.  Beyond,  there  was  a  farmyard.  The  path- 


280  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

way  was  high,  and  we  could  look  down  on  the  topa 
of  the  stacks.  One  of  these,  a  ha3rstack,  stood 
about  ten  feet  from  the  low  wall  that  skirted  the 
road.  It  had  been  half  pulled  down,  and  the  hay 
was  loose.  Without  a  word  or  warning  Jack 
sprang  completely  across  this  space,  turned  right 
over,  and  plunged  head  first  into  the  hay.  I  fol- 
lowed instantly  and  disappeared.  We  lay  for  a  few 
seconds  perfectly  still,  and  heard  Edwards  pass  at 
full  speed.  Then  we  struggled  out  and  watched 
him  out  of  sight. 

Sliding  down,  we  regained  the  lane,  returned  to 
the  high  road,  and  continued  our  flight. 

WQ  saw  no  more  of  Edwards. 

About  eight  miles  from  my  father's  house  there 
was  a  small  seaport  town.  We  made  for  this,  and 
leached  it  just  as  the  sun  rose  in  all  his  golden 
glory  on  the  distant  edge  of  the  sleeping  sea. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  281 


CHAPTER    III. 

ON  entering  the  village  we  found  it  in  a  state  of 
unusual  bustle.  I  had  often  been  there  before,  and 
had  thought  it  rather  a  quiet  place  for  a  seaport. 
But  now  there  was  a  sort  of  bustling  activity  and 
an  air  of  mystery  about  it  that  I  could  not  under- 
stand. I  mentioned  my  feelings  to  Jack,  but  he 
did  not  answer  me,  which  was  a  piece  of  rudeness 
so  unusual  that  I  could  only  suppose  that  his  mind 
was  so  deeply  affected  with  the  circumstances  in 
which  we  had  placed  ourselves  as  to  render  him 
somewhat  absent. 

On  arriving  at  the  chief,  indeed  the  only  inn  of 
the  place,  we  discovered  the  reason  of  all  the  bus- 
tle. A  strange  ship  had  arrived  the  night  before 
—  a  large  ship,  fitted  out  for  an  expedition  to  some 
distant  part  of  the  world.  She  had  come  to  com- 
plete her  supply  of  provisions  and  to  engage  a  few 
extra  hands. 

Here  then  was  a  fortunate  opportunity  1  We 
asked  at  once  where  w«  could  find  the  captain. 


282  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

He  was  in  the  bar-room  of  the  inn.  We  entered  it 
and  found  him  there,  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
fire  and  a  coat-tail  under  each  arm.  He  was  a  big 
fat  man,  with  a  savage  expression  of  countenanct, 
and  ragged  head  and  beard,  and  a  red  nose. 

"  Sir,"  said  Jack,  "we  wish  to  ship  with  you." 

The  captain  stared,  took  a  pencil-case  out  of  his 
pocket,  picked  his  teeth  therewith,  and  surveyed 
us  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  You  wish  to  ship  with 
me?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Suppose  I  don't  want  you." 

"  Then  we  shall  have  to  try  elsewhere." 

The  captain  smiled  grimly,  shut  up  the  pencil- 
case,  and  said  — 

"  What  can  ye  do  ?  " 

"  We  can  read,  and  write,  and  count,"  said  I, 
taking  the  words  out  of  Jack's  mouth ;  for  I  felt 
that  his  brusk  manner  of  replying  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  commend  us  to  the  captain. 

"  Oh,  you  can  read,  and  write,  and  count,  can 
ye?"  repeated  the  captain,  with  deep  sarcasm. 
"  If  ye  had  said  ye  could  feed,  and  fight,  and 
shout,  it  would  have  bin  more  to  the  purpose.'' 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  283 

"  Poihaps  we  can  do  a  little  of  that  sort  of  tLing, 
too,"  suggested  Jack,  with  a  broad  grin. 

"Hah?"  ejaculated  the  captain.  "Wot  else  can 
ye  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  any  thing,"  said  Jack. 

"I  gin'rally  find,"  observed  the  captain,  "that 
w'en  a  boy  says  he  can  do  any  thing,  he  very  soon 
proves  that  he  can  do  nothing." 

"  Well,  I  don't  mean  that  exactly,"  rejoined 
Jack ;  "  I  mean  we  can  try  any  thing." 

"  Ha !  that's  more  to  the  pint.  Where  did  ye 
come  from  ?  " 

We  looked  at  each  other.  "  That,"  said  I,  "  is  a 
matter  of  no  importance  to  any  one  but  ourselves. 
We  have  run  away  from  home,  and  we  want  to  go 
to  sea  as  fast  as  possible.  If  you  are  willing  to 
take  us,  we  are  willing  to  go.  What  say  you  ?  " 

"  Run  away !  ho !  ho !  —  run  away  !  "  said  the 
captain,  chuckling ;  "  you  are  just  the  lads  I  want. 
Nothing  like  runaway  boys  for  me.  I  wouldn't 
give  a  pinch  of  snuff  for  your  good  boys  that  do 
wot  they're  bid.  Commend  me  to  the  high-spirited 
fellers  that  runs  away,  and  that  folk  are  so  wicked 
as  to  call  bad  boys.  That's  the  sort  o'  ei  uff  that 
suits  oui  service." 


284  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

I  did  not  by  any  means  relish  the  manner  and 
tone  in  which  all  this  was  said :  so  I  asked  him 
what  particular  service  he  belonged  to. 

"You'll  know  that  time  enough,"  he  replied, 
laughing ;  "  but  after  all,  why  shouldn't  I  tell  ye  ? 
there's  nothing  to  conceal.  We're  a  discovery 
ship ;  we're  goin'  to  look  for  Sir  John  Franklin's 
expedition,  and  after  we've  found  it  we're  going  to 
try  the  North  Pole,  and  then  go  right  through  the 
Nor'-west  passage,  down  by  Behring's  Straits, 
across  the  Pacific,  touchin'  at  the  Cannibal  Islands 
in  passin',  and  so  on  to  China.  Havin'  revictualled 
there,  we'll  bear  away  for  Japan,  Haustralia,  Capo 
o'  Good  Hope,  and  the  West  Indies,  and  come 
tearin'  across  the  Atlantic  with  the  Gulf-stream  to 
England !  Will  that  suit  ye  ?  " 

It  may  seem  strange,  and  the  reader  will  hardly 
believe  me  when  I  say,  that,  transparently  absurd 
though  this  statement  was,  nevertheless  I  believed 
every  word  of  it  —  and  so  did  Jack.  I  saw  that  by 
his  glowing  eye  and  heightened  color. 

"And  when  do  you  sail?"  I  inquired  joyfully. 

"In  half  an  hour;  so  get  aboard,  boys,  and  don't 
give  so  much  tongue.  I've  other  matters  to  mind 
just  now.  Come,  be  off  1 " 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  285 

We  retreated  precipitately  to  the  door. 

"  What's  her  name  ? "  inquired  Jack,  loc  king 
back. 

" '  The  Ring-tailed  Smasher,' "  cried  the  captain, 
fiercely. 

"The  what?" 

" '  The  Ring-tailed  Smasher,' "  roared  the  cap- 
tain, seizing  the  poker. 

We  vanished.  In  five  minutes  we  were  on  board 
the  ship.  To  this  hour  I  have  no  remembrance  of 
how  we  got  on  board.  My  brain  swam  with  in- 
tense excitement.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  flying,  not 
walking,  as  I  ran  about  the  deck  and  clambered  up 
the  rigging. 

Shortly  after  the  captain  came  aboard.  The 
rope  that  attached  the  vessel  to  the  quay  was  cast 
off,  the  sails  flew  out  as  if  by  magic,  and  the  shore 
began  to  fall  rapidly  astern. 

It  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  that  a  full  sense 
of  what  I  had  done  came  over  me.  I  leaned  over 
the  stern  of  the  ship  and  gazed  at  my  native  shore 
as  it  grew  fainter  in  the  distance,  until  the  famil- 
iar hills  became  a  mere  line  of  blue  on  the  horizon, 
and  were  finally  blotted  from  my  view  by  the  blind- 
ing  tears  that  sprang  suddenly  to  my  eyes.  Oh  ! 


286  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

the  agony  of  that  moment  I  shall  never  foiget. 
The  words  that  Jack  had  quoted  to  me  the  night 
before  —  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother  "  — 
seemed  to  be  stamped  in  letters  of  fire  within  my 
brain.  I  felt  keenly  that,  in  a  moment  of  passionate 
self-will,  I  had  done  that  which  would  cause  me 
the  deepest  sorrow  all  my  life. 

In  that  dark  hour  I  forgot  all  my  romantic  no- 
tions of  travel  in  foreign  lands ;  I  cared  not  a  straw 
for  hunting,  or  fighting,  or  wild  adventures.  I 
would  have  cheerfully  given  worlds,  had  I  pos- 
sessed them,  to  be  permitted  to  undo  the  past  —  to 
hasten  to  my  dear  father's  feet,  and  implore  for- 
giveness  of  the  evil  that  I  had  done.  But  regret 
was  now  unavailing.  The  land  soon  sank  below 
the  horizon,  and,  ere  many  hours  had  passed,  our 
ship  was  scudding  before  a  stiff  breeze  and  leaping 
wild  y  over  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  287 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  Ho  !  tumble  up  there,  tumble  up  !  All  hands, 
ahoy  !  tumble  up  !  Look  alive,  lads ;  there's  work 
to  do,  my  hearties  1 " 

Such  were  the  words,  uttered  in  the  most  terri£ 
ically  violent  bass  tones,  that  awoke  me  on  the  first 
morning  after  I  went  to  sea.  Instantly  all  the  men 
around  me  leaped  out  of  their  hammocks.  They 
were  all  half-dressed,  and  I  noticed  that  the  greater 
part  of  them  completed  their  toilet  in  the  short 
interval  between  quitting  their  hammocks  and 
gaining  the  deck.  Jack  and  I  had  lain  down  in  our 
clothes,  so  we  were  on  deck  almost  as  soon  as  the 
others. 

Here  the  most  unexpected  sights  assailed  us. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  a  miraculous  change  had 
taken  place  on  everybody  and  every  thing  during 
the  night.  The  ship  when  she  had  set  sail  was  as 
untidy  and  lumbered  about  the  decks  as  a  merchant- 
man usually  is  on  quitting  port.  Now  every  thing 
was  clean,  in  its  place,  snugly  fastened,  and  in  or- 


288  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

der.  The  sails  appeared  to  have  undergone  soiuo 
modification.  I  fancied,  too,  that  the  masts  raked 
aft  a  good  deal  more  than  they  had  done,  and  round 
the  foot  of  them  were  ranged  muskets,  pistols,  cut- 
lasses, and  boarding-pikes,  where  masses  of  cord- 
age and  handspikes  had  been  before.  The  hen- 
coops had  vanished,  and  in  their  place  were  rows 
of  brass  carronades,  while  in  the  centre  of  the 
deck  an  enormous  swivel  gun  occupied  the  place 
on  which  the  long-boat  had  formerly  rested.  Ever 
the  captain  seemed  to  have  changed.  His  costume 
was  somewhat  Eastern  in  its  character,  and  his 
whole  aspect  was  much  more  ferocious  than  when  I. 
first  saw  him. 

Vague  and  terrible  suspicions  crossed  my  mind 
as  I  viewed  these  wonderful  transformations ;  but 
I  had  no  time  to  indulge  them,  for  the  men  had 
hastened  with  the  promptitude  of  men-of-war's  men 
to  their  stations,  leaving  Jack  and  me  alone  in  the 
middle  of  the  deck. 

"  Hallo,  boys  ! "  shouted  the  captain,  "  no  idlers 
allowed  aboard  this  ship.  Here,  stand  by  this  gun, 
and  lend  a  hand  with  the  ropes  when  you're  told  to. 
Obey  orders,  —  that's  the  only  duty  I've  got  to  lay 
on  you." 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  289 

We  hastened  to  the  gun  pointed  out,  and  while  I 
standing  there  waiting  for  orders,  I  looked 
over  the  side,  and,  for  the  first  time,  became  aware 
of  the  cause  of  these  proceedings. 

About  two  miles  to  leeward  of  us,  just  off  our 
larboard  bow,  I  saw  a  large  ship  running  under  a 
press  of  canvas.  She  was  a  huge  clumsy-looking 
merchantman,  and  I  heard  our  first  mate  say  she 
was  an  East-Indiaman. 

"Then  why  chase  her?"  thought  I,  "and  why 
these  warlike  preparations  ?  " 

It  struck  me  at  the  time,  I  remember,  that  the 
captain  must  have  guessed  my  thoughts,  for  he 
glanced  at  me  quickly,  and  then  turning  to  the 
mate,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  said,  — 

"  I  thought  you  had  better  sight  than  you  seem 
to  have.  In  my  judgment  that's  a  Russian  mer- 
chantman, and  as  we  happen  to  be  at  war  with 
Russia  just  now  I'll  take  the  liberty  of  overhauling 
her." 

Instead  of  replying  to  this  the  mate  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh  in  which,  strangely  enough,  he  was 
joined  by  the  captain  and  all  the  men  who  were 
within  hearing.  I  felt  uneasy  at  this,  and  ex- 
pressed my  feelings  in  a  whisper  to  Jack,  who 

19 


290  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

shook  his  head  and  looked  at  me  mystericaisly,  but 
said  nothing. 

I  felt  that,  even  though  we  were  at  war  with 
Russia,  we,  as  a  discovery-ship,  had  no  right  what- 
ever to  interfere  in  the  capacity  of  a  war-ship,  and 
I  was  about  to  remonstrate  with  the  captain  at  all 
hazards,  when  my  thoughts  were  suddenly  changed 
by  the  order  being  given  to  fire  a  shot  across  the 
stranger's  bows.  The  gun  at  which  I  was  sta- 
tioned was  run  out. — "  Stand  by  1"  cried  the  cap- 
tain. 

"Fire!" 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  without 
knowing  what  I  had  to  do,  though  deeply  impressed 
with  the  feeling  that  something  ought  to  be  done 
when  an  order  was  given,  I  pulled  violently  at  the 
rope  which  I  had  in  my  hand ;  the  effect  of  which 
was  to  move  the  gun  very  slightly  when  it  explod- 
ed. The  result  was  that  the  ball,  instead  of  pass- 
ing well  ahead  of  the  strange  vessel,  passed  close 
to  its  bow  and  carried  away  half  of  the  bowsprit. 

The  captain  turned  on  me  a  face  absolutely  blaz- 
ing with  wrath.  He  seized  a  handspike,  and  I 
thought  he  was  about  to  dash  out  my  brains  on  the 
spot.  He  hissed  at  me  between  his  clinched  teeth; 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  29 1 

then,  suddenly  bursting  into  a  shout  of  fiendish 
laughter,  he  cried,  — 

"  Well,  well,  after  all  there's  no  harm  done. 
It'll  make  them  understand  that  we  don't  mean  to 
trifle  with  'em.  Clear  the  boarding-pikes  there. 
Are  the  grappling-irons  ready?"  — "  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

By  this  time  the  stranger  had  hove-to,  and  we 
were  bearing  down  on  her  so  rapidly  that  a  few 
.minutes  more  would  bring  us  alongside.  Our  men 
stood  ready  for  action.  They  were  the  worst-look- 
ing set  of  scoundrels  I  ever  beheld. 

"  Ship  ahoy  1 "  shouted  our  captain  as  we  drew 
near,  "  what  ship's  that  ?  " 

A  smart  young  officer  leaped  on  the  bulwarks, 
and  cried,  "  Come  alongside  and  I'll  tell  you.  Show 
your  colors." 

At  the  word  our  colors  went  up,  as  colors  are 
usually  hoisted,  rolled  up  like  a  ball.  I  watched 
with  intense  interest,  for  I  felt  that  now  at  last  I 
should  know  our  true  character.  The  ball  of  what 
seemed  to  be  dark-blue  bunting  reached  the  mast- 
head and  hung  for  one  instant  —  then  its  folds  fell 
heavily,  and  were  swept  out  by  the  breeze.  The 
flag  was  black,  and  in  the  centre  were  a  white  skull 
and  crossbones  ! 


292  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

I  almost  fainted  at  the  sight.  I  looked  at  Jack, 
who  stood  beside  me.  He  was  as  white  as  a  sheet ; 
but  his  lips  were  firmly  compressed,  and  his  brows 
knitted.  "  Do  we  deserve  what  we  have  got?"  he 
muttered  in  a  deep,  sad  voice. 

I  did  not  reply ;  but  my  conscience  answered, 
"  We  do  —  at  least  I  do." 

We  were  now  hove-to  about  a  pistol-shot  to  lee- 
ward of  the  ship,  and  our  captain,  leaping  on  the 
bulwark,  cried,  with  a  dreadful  oath,  "  Send  your 
gig  alongside  instantly  with  your  captain  and  pa- 
pers. If  you  don't  look  sharp  I'll  blow  you  out  of 
the  water." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  a  loud 
shout  rent  the  air,  and  the  bulwarks  of  the  strange 
vessel  swarmed  with  soldiers.  At  the  same  moment, 
twenty  concealed  ports  flew  open  and  twenty 
heavy  guns  were  run  out. 

Our  captain  gave  the  word,  "  Fire  !"  as  he  leaped 
on  the  deck  and  rushed  to  the  wheel.  The  word 
must  have  been  given  at  the  same  moment  on  board 
the  chase,  for  both  broadsides  burst  simultaneously 
from  the  vessels'  sides  with  a  deafening  crash 
that  sounded  ten  times  louder  and  more  terrible 
than  the  loudest  thunder  I  ever  heard.  We  wore  so 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  293 

near  that  the  combined  volumes  of  smoke  complete- 
ly blinded  and  almost  suffocated  me.  I  fancied,  for 
a  moment,  that  our  powder-magazine  had  blown  up. 

The  thunder  of  the  broadsides  was  followed  by 
the  most  appalling  shrieks  I  ever  heard,  and  by 
the  ceaseless  rattle  of  musketry  as  the  soldiers 
opened  on  us  with  deadly  precision.  Through  tho 
smoke  I  saw  men  falling  around  me,  and  the  decks 
were  immediately  covered  with  blood,  while  bul- 
lets and  splinters  of  wood  whistled  round  my  head 
like  hail. 

I  was  stunned.  I  felt  like  one  in  a  horrid  dream. 
Gradually  the  smoke  cleared  away,  and  then  I  saw 
that  our  captain  had  put  down  the  helm  and  our 
vessel  was  sheering  off  to  leeward  under  full  sail. 
The  rapidity  with  which  every  thing  was  done 
quite  took  away  my  breath.  Before  we  were  out 
of  gun-shot  the  decks  had  been  cleared,  the  dead 
thrown  into  the  sea,  the  wounded  carried  below, 
and  the  decks  washed  with  buckets  of  water. 

Just  then  I  thought  of  Jack,  and  looked  round 
in  haste.  He  was  not  there  !  I  rushed  below !  he 
was  not  in  his  hammock.  In  an  agony  of  anxiety 
I  went  down  into  the  horrible  den  of  blood  where 
our  surgeon  was  attending  to  the  wounded.  Here 


294:  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

amid  groaning  and  dying  men  I  found  rny  friend 
stretched  in  a  cot  with  a  blanket  over  him.  His 
handsome  face  was  very  pale,  and  his  eyes  were 
closed  when  I  approached.  Going  down  on  my 
knees  beside  him,  while  my  heart  fluttered  with  an 
inexpressible  feeling  of  dread,  I  whispered  'his 
name. 

He  opened  his  large  eyes  slowly,  and  a  sweet 
sad  smile  lit  up  his  face  for  one  moment,  as  he  took 
me  by  the  hand.  "O  Jack!  Jack,  my  friend — my 
brother — are  you  wounded?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  in  a  faint  voice  ;  "  I'm  badly 
hurt,  I  fear." 

"  Has  the  doctor  dressed  your  wound  ?  " 

"  He  finished  the  —  the  —  operation  just  before 
you  came  down." 

"  Operation  !  "  I  whispered,  while  a  feeling 
of  deadly  sickness  came  over  me.  "  Where  — 
what  " —  I  could  not  go  further. 

Poor  Jack  knew  what  I  wished  to  ask.  He 
gently  lifted  part  of  the  blanket,  and  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  been  stunned  by  an  electric  shock  on  observ- 
ing that  his  right  leg  had  been  amputated  abovo 
the  kneo.  For  some  moments  I  could  not  speak. 
I  could  not  move.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  295 

could  draw  my  laboring  breath.  Suddenly  I  clasped 
my  hands,  — 

"  0  Jack !  my  beloved !  my  "  — 

I  gasped.  My  throat  was  parched.  For  one 
moment  I  thought  I  was  dying.  Suddenly  I  start- 
ed up,  uttered  a  great  agonizing  cry,  and  fell  down 
on  the  deck.  Then  a  flood  of  tears  sprang  into  my 
burning  eyes,  and  I  sobbed  as  if  my  heart  would 
burst  asunder.  I  did  not  try  to  check  this.  It 
was  too  precious  a  relief  to  my  insupportable  ago- 
ny. I  crept  close  to  my  friend's  cot,  took  his  hand 
gently,  and,  laying  my  cheek  upon  it,  wept  there 
as  I  never  wept  before.  Jack's  former  advice  now 
came  back  to  me  vividly,  and  his  words  of  caution, 
"Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,"  burned  deep 
into  my  throbbing  brain,  while  my  accusing  con- 
science whispered  unceasingly,  "  You  brought  him 
to  this  —  you  brought  him  to  this!"  My  sorrow 
was  broken  in  upon  rudely  by  the  first  mate. 

"  What  are  you  doin'  here,  you  young  black- 
guard ? "  he  cried,  seizing  me  by  the  collar,  and 
dragging  me  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder  that  led  out 
of  this  bloody  den.  "  Skulking,  eh  !  I'll  teach  you 
to  skull: ;  I'll  cure  you  o'  that,  my  lad  !  I'll  tan  your 
skin  for  you,"  an  i  at  each  emphatic  word  he  gave 


296  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

a  Mow  with  a  rope's  end  that  raised  a  bar  of  livid 
flesh  across  my  back.  "  There,"  he  cried,  giving 
me  a  final  cut,  and  hurling  me  up  the  first  few 
steps  of  the  ladder,  "  on  deck  with  you  !  " 

I  did  not  hesitate  to  comply.  I  gained  the  deck 
with  unusual  rapidity,  smarting  with  pain  and  burn- 
ing with  indignation.  But  what  I  saw  going  on 
there  made  me  almost  forget  my  pain.  The  great 
swivel  gun  amidships  was  being  cleared  for  action, 
and  our  captain  was  giving  order^  beside  it  as 
coolly  and  quietly  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  oc- 
curred that  day. 

I  was  deeply  impressed  for  a  few  minutes  with 
this  cool,  calm  indifference,  which  characterized 
the  men  as  well  as  the  captain ;  but  when  I  had 
considered  a  little,  I  came  to  understand  that 
they  were  used  to  battle  and  bloodshed,  and  that 
therefore  it  was  quite  natural.  After  that  I  ceased 
to  wonder  at  any  thing.  Indeed,  the  power  to  be 
astonished  seemed  to  leave  my  breast  altogether, 
and  from  that  moment  I  regarded  every  thing  that 
happened  on  the  pirate  vessel  as  being  quite 
what  might  be  expected  —  mere  matter  of  course. 

I  now  observed  that  we  had  not  yet  done  with 
the  supposed  Russian.  We  had  merely  run  astern 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  297 

oat  of  range  of  her  guns,  but  not  beyond  the  range 
of  our  large  swivel.  In  a  few  minutes  it  was  ready. 
The  captain  sighted  the  gun,  and  gave  the  word 
«  Fire ! " 

The  ship  quivered  with  the  shock,  and  so  large 
was  the  ball  that  I  could  distinctly  trace  its  flight. 
It  fell  short  a  few  yards.  "  So,  so,"  muttered  the 
captain.  "  The  next  will  do  its  work." 

He  was  right.  The  next  ball  struck  the  rails 
that  ran  round  the  poop,  carried  away  the  binnacle, 
and  raked  the  upper  deck  from  stern  to  stem.  I 
could  see  it  quite  plainly  with  the  glass. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  shouted  some  of  the  crew. 

"  Silence,  you  babies,"  growled  the  captain ; 
"  time  enough  to  crow  when  our  work's  done." 

The  men  who  had  cheered  fell  back  abashed. 
I  noticed  that  they  were  chiefly  the  younger  men 
of  the  crew,  whose  countenances  were  not  yet  ut- 
terly unhumanized  by  crime.  —  "  Load." 

"Ready."  — "Fire!" 

Again  the  huge  iron  mass  sprang  from  the  can 
non's  mouth,  and  rushed  along  its  deadly  track.  It 
struck  the  top  of  a  wave,  and  bounding  up  passed 
through  the  sails  and  cordage  of  the  Russian,  cut- 
ting  one  or  two  of  the  lighter  spars,  and  also  tho 


298  Why  I  did  not  become,  a  Sailor. 

main  top-sail  halyards,  which  caused  the  yard  to 
come  rattling  down,  and  rendered  the  sail  useless. 
Seeing  this,  the  pirate  captain  ordered  sail  to  be 
reduced  in  order  to  keep  at  a  sufficient  distance 
astern  to  render  the  guns  of  the  chase  useless. 
Every  shot  from  our  gun  now  told  with  terrible 
effect.  We  could  see  the  splinters  fly  as  every 
ball  entered  the  ship's  stern,  or  swept  her  deck,  or 
crashed  through  her  rigging.  Presently  she  turned 
her  broadside  to  us. 

"  She  don't  mean  to  waste  her  ammunition,  sure- 
ly," remarked  the  captain,  with  a  sneer. 

She  did  not  mean  to  do  so.  She  evidently  meant 
to  turn  the  tables  by  bearing  suddenly  down  on 
us,  and,  if  possible,  give  us  a  broadside  before 
we  could  get  out  of  range.  The  captain  saw  the 
intention  instantly,  and  thwarted  it. 

"  UP  y°ur  helm  !  Square  the  yards !  Look 
alive  there  1 " 

We  fell  off,  and  were  soon  running  before  the 
wind,  with  the  swivel  gun  thundering  over  our 
siern,  as  it  had  formerly  thundered  over  our 
bows.  The  Russian  fired  a  broadside,  and  lay-to. 
Every  ball  fell  short  of  us.  We  also  lay-to,  and  now 
the  fire  *vas  kept  up  steadily.  The  ship's  fate  was 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  '299 

pealed.  Those  on  board  evidently  thought  so,  for 
the  colors  which  had  hitherto  been  flying  from  the 
mast  were  presently  lowered.  Upon  this  we  ceased 
firing,  and  ranged  up  alongside. 

"  Oh  !  you've  had  enough,  have  you  ?  "  cried  our 
captain.  "  Perhaps  you'll  condescend  to  let  your 
captain  and  papers  come  aboard  now" 

The  Russian  did  not  reply,  but  a  boat  was  low- 
ered. It  was  evident  they  meant  to  obey. 

"  Here,  you  boy,"  cried  our  captain,  as  he  paced 
the  deck,  awaiting  their  arrival.  "  Here's  a  letter 
for  you." 

"  A  letter,  sir !  "  I  exclaimed,  stepping  forward, 
and  touching  my  cap. 

"  Ay,  your  father  gave  it  to  me  just  afore  we  set 
sail.  He  told  me  not  to  give  it  to  you  until  you'd 
seen  a  little  rough  work.  You've  seen  some  now, 
I  think  (he  accompanied  this  remark  with  a  horri- 
ble leer),  so  there's  the  letter.  Go  below  and  read 
it.  I'll  want  you  in  half  an  hour  for  some  still 
rougher  work." 

There  seemed  to  me  something  very  unaccount- 
able and  mysterious  in  this.  I  knew  that  the  cap- 
tain did  not  know  my  father.  I  had  not  even  told 
him  that  I  had  a  father.  It  seemed  to  me  impossi- 


300  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

ble  that  in  the  course  of  the  short  half-hour  that 
intervened  between  the  time  of  my  engaging  to 
serve  in  the  Ring-tailed  Smasher,  and  the  time  of 
my  setting  sail,  my  father  could  have  found  out 
where  I  had  run  to,  have  met  and  conversed  with 
the  captain,  and  have  written  a  letter  to  me.  Yet 
it  seemed  that  such  was  the  case.  I  recognized 
the  handwriting. 

"  Whom  did  you  get  the  letter  from  ?  Did  you 
see  my  father  ?  "  — 

"  Come,  youngster,  don't  you  go  for  to  question 
me.  Go  below  d'rectly,  an'  stop  there  till  ye'r 
wanted." 

The  captain  seized  the  end  of  a  rope  as  he  spoke, 
so  I  retreated  at  once  to  the  bedside  of  my  poor 
friend  Jack,  only  too  glad  to  escape  from  the  pres- 
ence of  the  men  whom  I  now  abhorred  with  all  my 
heart.  "  Jack,"  said  I,  eagerly,  "  here's  a  letter 
from  my  father ! " 

He  evinced  no  surprise,  but,  looking  up  solemnly, 
said,  in  a  faint  voice,  "  Read  it." 

Breaking  the  seal,  I  read  as  follows : — 

"  MY  BELOVED  SON,  —  I  forgive  you.  You  have 
einned  deeply  in  thus  leaving  me  ;  but  I  know  that 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  301 

you  have  repented.  I  know  that  your  own  con- 
science has  rebuked  you  more  sternly  than  any 
earthly  parent  could  do.  You  caimot  now  recall 
the  past  —  you  cannot  undo  what  you  have  done ; 
you  must  now  continue  your  voyage,  and,  in  order 
to  relieve  your  oppressed  heart,  I  give  you  my 
blessing.  I  commend  you,  my  dear  boy,  to  Him 
who  is  the  Saviour  of  sinners. 

"  Beware  of  the  captain.  Obey  him  in  all  that  is 
right,  but  do  not  serve  him.  Again,  I  say,  beware 
of  him.  There  are  secrets  concerning  him  that  I 
cannot  unfold.  I  have  just  been  to  see  Jack's 
mother.  She  sends  her  forgiveness  and  blessing 
to  her  son.  God  bless  you,  boy.  —  Your  loving 
father,  "JOHN  SMITH." 

My  father  understood  human  nature.  No  re- 
proaches that  he  could  have  heaped  upon  me  would 
have  cut  half  so  deeply  into  my  heart  as  did  this 
kind,  forgiving  letter.  My  heart  was  full.  Yet  I 
felt  a  deep  undercurrent  of  joy  at  knowing  that 
my  father  loved  me  still.  I  looked  at  Jack.  He 
seemed  to  be  asleep,  but  he  was  not.  A  single  tear 
coursed  over  his  pale  cheek  as  he  looked  up  and 
whispered, — 


302  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

"  We  don't  deserve  this,  Bob." 

Before  I  could  reply,  the  ship  was  shaken  by  a 
tremendous  explosion,  and  immediately  after  I 
heard  the  most  appalling  shrieks  and  yells  on  deck, 
accompanied  by  the  clashing  of  swords  and  the 
scuffling  of  men  in  deadly  conflict.  I  looked  at 
Jack;  he  lay  motionless,  with  his  eyes  closed.  For 
a  moment  I  feared  that  he  was  dead. 

"  Bob  Smith !  Hallo !  tumble  up  there,  you 
skulker  1 "  shouted  a  voice  down  the  hatchway.  At 
the  same  moment  two  wounded  men  were  carried 
into  the  place,  and  the  surgeon  appeared  with  his 
horrible  instruments  glittering,  cold  and  sharp,  on 
a  wooden  tray. 

Seizing  my  cutlass,  and  thrusting  a  brace  of 
pistols  in  my  belt,  I  rushed  on  dock. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  303 


CHAPTER    V. 

ON  reaching  the  deck  I  saw  at  once  how  matteis 
stood.  The  Russian  had  allowed  us  to  come  along- 
side, and  then,  throwing  out  grappling-irons,  had 
fired  a  broadside  into  us  and  attempted  to  board. 
They  were  soon  overcome,  however,  by  the  pirates, 
and  driven  back  into  their  ship,  whither  they  were 
immediately  followed. 

I  resolved,  come  what  might,  that  I  would  take 
no  part  in  the  fray ;  but  I  was  carried,  in  spite  of 
myself,  on  board  the  strange  vessel  in  the  rush 
that  our  men  made  when  they  drove  their  oppo- 
nents back.  There  was  a  short,  sharp  skirmish  on 
the  deck  of  the  Russian,  and  then  the  crew  were 
driven  below,  and  the  hatches  put  on.  I  remem- 
bered having  seen  a  number  of  soldiers  on  board 
when  we  first  came  up  with  this  vessel.  There 
were  none  now.  Their  mysterious  disappearance 
struck  me  at  first,  but  I  soon  forgot  it  in  the 
thrilling  scenes  that  followed. 

In  the  middle  of  the  vessel's  main-deck  there 


304  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

was  a  cage  of  wild  beasts.  How  they  had  got  there 
of  course  I  knew  not,  but  I  at  once  concluded  the 
ship  must  have  been  in  southern  climes,  and  these 
animals  were  being  brought  home  to  be  presented 
to  some  menagerie  or  zoological  garden.  There 
were  several  fine  specimens  of  lions  and  tigers, 
and  the  sight  of  blood  which  flowed  plentifully  on 
the  decks  had  so  excited  these  creatures  that 
they  were  now  filling  the  air  with  deafening 
roars,  bounding  against  the  sides  of  their  cage 
(which  I  expected  every  moment  to  see  broken 
to  pieces  by  their  united  strength),  and  glaring 
at  us  with  the  most  awful  expressions  of  ferocity 
I  ever  beheld. 

Our  captain,  who  looked  almost  as  fierce  as  the 
wild  brutes,  could  not  make  his  voice  heard  for  their 
roaring.  In  savage  fury  he  rushed  at  the  cage  and 
made  a  desperate  cut  with  his  sword  at  the  lion 
nearest  the  bars.  The  blood  flowed  from  the  wound 
freely,  and  the  savage  animal,  being  unable  to 
wreak  its  vengeance  on  its  cowardly  assailant, 
attacked  one  of  its  comrades.  This  and  the  blood 
now  flowing  in  the  cage  quite  maddened  them  all. 
An  indiscriminate  fight  ensued.  The  wooden  parti- 
tion that  separated  the  tigers  from  the  lions  was 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  305 

smashed  in,  and  the  strong  cage  shook  as  if  it  were 
made  of  card-board. 

"  Turn  a  gun  in-board,"  yelled  the  captain,  who 
seemed  to  have  actually  gone  mad  with  passion. 

The  order  was  instantly  obeyed. 

"  Load  to  the  muzzle  —  grape  —  canister —  chain 
fihot.  In  with  it." 

He  assisted  in  the  operation ;  rammed  home  the 
extraordinary  charge,  pointed  the  gun  at  the  cage, 
and  applied  the  match.  Instantly  the  gun  leaped 
backwards  as  if  it  had  been  a  living  tiling,  broke 
down  the  bulwarks  of  the  ship,  and  plunged  over- 
board. 

The  effect  of  the  shot  was  terrific.  The  cage 
was  blown  to  atoms,  and  the  mangled  remains  of 
the  wild  beasts  were  strewn  about  the  deck.  One 
animal,  however,  a  magnificent  Bengal  tiger,  had 
apparently  escaped  unhurt.  It  sprang  at  the  cap- 
tain with  a  hideous  roar.  He  pointed  a  pistol  at 
its  open  throat ! 

At  that  moment  the  woodcut  in  my  book  of 
travels  flashed  vividly  before  me.  But  I  had  not 
time  to  think.  The  pistol  exploded,  sending  its 
contents  down  the  creature's  throat.  The  tiger 
fell  short  in  its  leap ;  blood  poured  from  its  mouth 
20 


306  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

and  nose.  With  another  bound  it  cleared  tho 
bulwarks,  and  fell  into  the  sea. 

The  calm  that  succeeded  this  thrilling  incident 
was  like  a  sudden  lull  in  the  midst  of  a  furious 
storm.  Even  the  pirates  seemed  to  be  solemnized 
by  what  had  passed. 

"  Now  to  work,"  cried  the  captain,  wiping  his 
sword,  and  laying  it,  with  a  brace  of  loaded  pistols, 
on  the  capstan.  "What  are  you  staring  at,  you 
fools? — have  you  lost  your  senses?  Open  the 
after-hatch,  and  bring  them  up,  one  at  a  time. 
Get  the  plank  ready." 

The  first  who  was  led  bound  before  the  captain 
was  the  steward  of  the  ship.  He  was  deadly  pale, 
and  trembled  very  much. 

"  Now,  my  man,"  said  the  captain, "  answer  my 
questions.  The  truth  mind,  else  "  —  he  touched 
the  butt  of  a  pistol  significantly. 

"  Where  did  you  last  sail  from  ?  " 

To  my  amazement,  the  man  gave  the  name  of 
the  port  from  which  we  ourselves  had  sailed.  I 
lelt  certain  that  this  was  a  falsehood,  and  that  the 
poor  man's  life  would  be  forfeited.  Judge,  then, 
my  surprise  when  the  captain  said, — 

"  I  know  that  as  well  as  you.     I  saw  you  sneak 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  307 

out  just  the  day  before  we  did.  But  you  didn't 
escape  me,  ha  !  ha  !  You  are  too  good  to  live,  ray 
man.  Stand  aside  here  till  I  call  some  one  who's 
not  quite  so  frightened.  Here,  hold  him,  one  of 
you  !  Bring  another ! " 

I  started.  My  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat 
when  the  next  man  was  led  forward.  He  was  my 
father's  man-servant,  Edwards.  In  the  confusion 
and  horror  of  that  hour  I  could  not  reason ;  but  a 
vague  sense  of  some  mysterious  impossibility 
having  actually  taken  place  oppressed  me  in  a  way 
that  I  cannot  explain.  The  ship  had  sailed  the 
day  before  ours  did !  I  left  Edwards  behind  me  in 
the  race  from  home  !  How,  then,  did  I  see  him 
before  me  ?  Then  the  cage  of  wild  beasts.  How 
was  it  possible  that  a  vessel  leaving  an  English 
port  could  have  such  creatures  on  board  ?  Then, 
my  father's  letter ;  it  seemed  more  than  ever  mys- 
terious how  that  letter  could  reach  me,  and  through 
such  a  channel,  and  without  a  word  of  reference  to 
Edwards. 

He  did  not  observe  me  as  he  passed.  I  tried  to 
utter  his  name  ;  but  my  tongue  was  tied.  I  could 
not  speak.  I  could  not  move. 

"  Where  did  you  last  sail  from?  "  began  the  cap. 
tain. 


308  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

"You'll  get  nothing  out  of  me,"  replied  Ed- 
wards, stoutly.  "  Do  your  most.  Torture  me  if 
you  like.  I  defy  you  to  your  teeth." 

"  Do  you,  my  fine  fellow  ? "  said  the  captain, 
with  a  bitter  sneer.  "  Then  I'll  just  send  you 
overboard  at  once.  I've  no  time  to  torture  you ; 
and  as  I  shall  find  plenty  of  your  comrades  willing 
enough  to  tell  me  all  they  know,  I'll  not  trouble 
you  any  further.  Ho!  run  out  the  plank  there!" 

I  knew  what  that  meant,  and  a  cold  shiver  passed 
through  my  frame  as  the  men  obeyed,  and  blind- 
folded Edwards,  preparatory  to  making  him  walk 
the  plank.  I  could  restrain  myself  no  longer. 
Darting  up  to  the  captain,  I  shouted  in  a  voice  of 
indignation, — 

"  Do  you  mean  to  murder  an  innocent  man,  you 
dastardly  villain  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  in  surprise  ;  then, 
snatching  a  pistol,  felled  me  with  it  to  the  deck. 
I  was  not  rendered  quite  insensible.  I  heard  the 
shriek  of  agony  uttered  by  poor  Edwards,  as  he 
fell  off  the  end  of  the  plank  into  the  sea;  then  I 
fainted. 

How  long  I  lay,  I  know  not ;  probably  not  long, 
for  I  was  restt  red  to  a  state  of  consciousness  by 


Wliy  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  309 

being  plunged  into  the  sea.  I  had  no  dou'jt  that 
the  :aptain  had  orderd  me  to  be  thrown  overboard 
just  after  I  fell  under  his  brutal  blow. 

Being  a  good  swimmer,  I  struck  out  at  once  and 
made  for  the  side  of  the  pirate  vessel,  where  I 
caught  the  end  of  a  rope,  and  soon  clambered  on 
board.  I  was  much  exhausted,  and  sat  down  on 
the  breech  of  a  carronade  to  rest  and  recover  my 
stunned  and  scattered  faculties. 

The  crew  of  the  priate  were  so  busily  engaged 
with  the  captured  ship  that  I  found  myself  quite 
alone  on  the  deck.  Not  a  man  remained  in  the  ship. 
An  idea  suddenly  occurred  to  me  just  then.  I 
glanced  up  at  the  sails.  They  were  all  flapping  in 
the  wind .  except  the  fore-topsail.  That  sail  had 
slewed  round,  and  was  drawing  so  that  the  vessel 
strained  the  r:>pes  and  grappling-irons  that  held 
her  to  the  caj  tured  ship. 

I  sprang  up  burning  with  eager  excitement.  I 
heard  the  shrieks  of  the  ill-fated  victims,  as  one  by 
one  they  walked  the  plank,  which,  fortunately  for 
the  success  of  my  design,  was  thrust  out  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ship.  A  crowbar  enabled  me  to 
wrench  off  the  grappling-irons.  Two  cuts  of  a 
large  axe  severed  the  cable  that  had  been  fastened 


310  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

to  the  bow,  and  the  vessel's  head  fell  slowly  off. 
As  it  did  so,  all  the  sails  filled  with  a  sudden  clap. 
This  was  observed :  I  heard  a  shout,  and  saw  the 
pirates  spring  on  the  bulwarks  of  the  prize.  I  flew 
rather  than  ran  to  the  stern,  where  the  cable  that 
held  the  vessel  was  rigid  as  a  bar  of  iron.  One 
blow  cut  it,  and  the  rope  recoiled  violently  in  the 
faces  of  the  men  who  laid  hold  of  it.  Next  mo- 
ment the  pirate  ship  was  heading  away  before  a 
stiff  breeze  which  was  quickly  freshening  to  a 
gale.  As  I  sprang  to  the  helm,  a  shower  of  mus- 
ket and  pistol  bullets  tore  up  the  deck  round  me, 
and  I  heard  the  captain's  voice  give  the  order  to 
load  the  guns. 

It  was  a  few  minutes  before  the  vis  inertice  of 
the  ship  was  overcome,  so  that  I  was  within  close 
range  when  a  whole  broadside  was  fired  at  me. 
But  not  a  shot  struck.  They  tore  up  the  water  all 
round,  and  ricochetted  over  me.  Before  they  could 
reload  I  was  almost  beyond  range,  for  the  gale 
was  freshening  every  moment,  and  the  canvas 
spread  was  enough  almost  to  tear  the  masts  out  of 
the  ship.  The  water  hissed  as  she  ilew  over  the 
heaving  waves,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  felt  that  1 
•was  free. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  31 1 

Oh  the  feeling  of  wild  delight  that  filled  me 
when  I  realized  this  !  I  lashed  the  helm  amidships, 
and  ran  down  below  to  tell  Jack  what  I  had  done. 
He  was  asleep.  By  a  powerful  effort  I  restrained 
myself,  and  did  not  disturb  him.  Then  I  rushed 
on  deck.  My  brain  seemed  on  fire.  I  shouted, 
laughed,  and  sang,  and  wept,  until  I  began  to  feel  a 
terrible  sensation  of  dread  lest  I  should  go  mad. 
But  this,  instead  of  calming  me,  caused  me  to  dance 
and  sing  and  shout  the  more.  A  burning  thirst 
came  upon  me.  I  ran  to  the  water-cask  and  drank 
till  I  could  drink  no  more.  I  was  refreshed ;  but 
soon  the  fever  returned  fiercer  than  ever.  I  was 
mad !  I  knew  it ;  I  felt  it ;  but  I  did  not  care.  I  saw 
that  the  storm  increased ;  this  caused  me  to  shout 
again  with  joy  at  the  thought  that  I  was  so  quickly 
borne  away  from  the  scene  of  butchery,  and  from 
the  fiends  in  human  form  with  whom  I  had  so 
lately  associated. 

The  gale  burst  in  all  its  fury  upon  us.  The  sails 
were  new  and  strong ;  the  ship  plunged  into  the 
waves,  a  green  billow  swept  inboard  and  burst  in 
fury  on  the  deck,  carrying  away  boats  and  loose 
spars.  I  yelled  with  delight,  and  plunged  into  the 
brine  that  lashed  the  deck  from  stem  to  stern.  I 


312  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

heard  a  noise  overhead ;  but  was  so  confuted  that 
I  could  not  understand  what  it  was.  As  I  gazed, 
there  came  a  terrific  blast.  The  mainsail  split 
from  top  to  bottom.  The  topsails  burst  and  were 
blown  to  ribbons.  At  the  same  moment,  I  received 
a  violent  blow  on  the  head. 

After  that,  all  was  darkness  and  oblivion. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  313 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHEN  consciousness  returned  to  me  I  found 
myself  lying  on  my  back  on  the  deck  of  a  vessel, 
surrounded  and  propped  up  by  pillows ;  and  Jack 
Brown  sitting  beside  me  reading  a  book. 

I  felt  a  curious  sensation  of  weakness  and  emp- 
tiness in  my  head — as  if  it  were  hollow,  and  a 
strange  disinclination,  almost  inability,  to  speak  or 
think.  Suddenly  this  passed  away,  and  the  events 
which  I  have  related  in  the  previous  chapters 
rushed  back  upon  my  memory  with  vivid  power. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  dream,"  I  thought,  "  or  I 
must  have  been  ill  and  delirious,  and  these  things 
have  passed  through  my  fevered  brain." 

At  that  moment  the  thought  of  Jack's  amputated 
leg  came  into  my  head:  "that  will  prove  it," 
thought  I,  and  turned  quickly  to  look  at  my  friend. 
One  glance  was  sufficient  —  a  wooden  stump  occu- 
pied the  place  of  his  right  leg.  I  groaned  aloud 
and  burst  into  tears.  "  Come,  Bob,"  said  Jack  in 
a  soft,  kind  tone,  laying  down  hi«  book  and  bending 


314  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

over  me.  "  Come,  my  poor  fellow,  keep  quiet.  It's 
about  time  you  had  your  dinner.  Lie  still  at  d  I'll 
fetch  it  to  you." 

I  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm  and  detained  him. 

"Then  it's  all  true,"  said  I  in  a  tone  of  the 
deepest  despondency. 

"Is  what  all  true?" 

"This — this  horrible  —  your  leg;  your  leg"  — 

Jack  suddenly  stooped  and  gazed  earnestly  into 
my  face. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  Bob  ?  "  He  trembled  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Know  you,  Jack  !  why  should  I  not  know  you  ? 
When  did  I  ever  forget  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  God  !  "  he  exclaimed  fervently,  taking 
my  hand  and  pressing  it  to  his  breast.  "  You're 
all  right  again.  Oh,  how  I  have  longed  and  prayed 
for  this." 

"  All  right,  Jack.     Have  I  been  wrong,  then  ?  " 

"  That  you  have  just,"  said  Jack,  smiling  sadly. 
""  You've  just  been  as  mad  as  a  March  hare,  that's 
all  ! " 

I  fell  flat  down  and  gazed  at  him.  In  a  minute 
more  I  raised  myself  on  one  elbow,  and,  'ocking  at 
him  earnestly,  said,  "  How  long,  Jack  ?  " 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sauor.  315 

"  Just  three  weeks  to-day." 

I  fell  flat  down  again,  in  which  position  Jack 
left  me  to  go  and  fetch  me  some  dinner.  He  re- 
turned quickly  with  a  plate  of  soup.  Before 
commencing  to  eat  it  I  pressed  my  hand  on  my 
forehead,  and  said  — 

"  Jack,  I  am  surrounded  by  mysteries.  How  got 
you  so  soon  well?  Where  got  you  that  wooden 
leg  ?  How  are  we  here  alone  ?  Where  are  we 
going?  Clear  up  my  faculties,  Jack,  while  I  eat 
this  soup  —  do,  like  a  good  fellow." 

"  I  can  easily  do  that,  Bob.  First,  I  got  well 
because  you  took  care  of  me." 

"  What  II?" 

"  Yes,  you !  At  the  commencement  of  your 
madness  you  tended  me  and  cared  for  me  as  if  you 
had  been  my  mother.  When  you  got  to  lose  all 
'  method  in  your  madness '  I  was  well  enough  to 
take  care  of  myself  and  you  too.  Secondly,  I 
found  this  wooden  leg  in  the  carpenter's  berth,  and 
gladly  availed  myself  of  its  services,  though  it  is 
three  inches  too  short,  and  causes  me  to  hobble  in 
a  most  undignified  manner.  Thirdly,  ws  are  here 
alone  because  there  is  no  one  else  with  us.  You 
took  good  care  of  that  by  cutting  the  ropes  before 


316  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

any  of  our  crew  could  get  aboard  —  so  you  told 
me  just  before  you  went  mad." 

"  Oh  !  I  remember  now  !  I  recollect  it  all.  Go 
on." 

"  Fourthly,  as  to  where  we  are  going,  I  don't 
know.  Our  compass  was  smashed  to  pieces  in  the 
fight,  and  I've  been  running  for  the  last  three 
weeks  right  before  the  wind.  So  now  you  know 
all,  and  as  you've  finished  your  soup  I'll  go  and  get 
you  a  lump  of  boiled  junk." 

"  Don't,"  said  I,  rising  and  shaking  myself.  "I've 
dined.  I  feel  quite  strong.  I  don't  feel  a  bit  as  if 
I  had  been  ill.  Hallo  !  what  land  is  that  ?  " 

Jack  started  and  gazed  at  it  with  surprise.  He 
had  evidently  not  known  that  we  were  in  the 
neighborhood  of  land.  A  dense  fog-bank  had  con- 
cealed it  from  us.  Now  that  it  cleared  away  it 
revealed  to  our  gaze  a  stretch  of  yellow  sand, 
backed  by  the  lofty  blue  hills  of  the  interior,  and 
from  the  palm-trees  that  I  could  make  out  distinctly 
I  judged  that  we  must  have  been  making  for  the 
tropical  regions  during  the  last  three  weeks. 

Yet  here  again  mystery  surrounded  me.  How 
was  it  possible  that  we  should  have  reached  the 
tropics  in  so  short  a  time  ?  While  I  was  puzzling 


Why  1  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  317 

over  this  question,  the  greatest  mystery  of  all 
occurred  to  us.  If  I  were  not  conscientiously 
relating  events  exactly  as  they  occurred,  I 
should  expect  my  readers  to  doubt  my  veracity 
here. 

As  we  were  sailing  smoothly  along,  our  ship, 
without  any  apparent  cause,  began  to  sink.  She 
went  down  gradually,  but  quickly  —  inch  by  inch 
—  until  the  water  was  on  a  level  with  the  decks. 
We  struck  no  rock !  we  did  not  cease  to  advance 
towards  the  shore !  I  fancied  that  we  must  cer- 
tainly have  sprung  a  leak  ;  but  there  had  been  no 
sound  of  a  plank  starting,  and  there  was  no  noise 
of  water  rushing  into  the  hold.  I  could  not 
imagine  what  had  occurred,  but  I  had  not  much 
time  for  thought.  We  could  do  nothing  to  avert 
the  catastrophe.  It  occurred  so  suddenly  that  we 
were  both  rendered  mute  and  helpless.  We  stood 
gazing  at  the  water  as  it  crept  over  the  deck 
without  making  the  slightest  effort  to  save  our- 
selves. 

At  length  the  water  reached  the  hatchway  and 
poured  in  a  roaring  cataract  into  the  hold.  The 
vessel  filled,  gave  a  heavy  lurch  to  port,  a  species 
of  tremor  passed  through  her  frame  as  if  she  was 


318  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

a  living  thing  and  knew  that  her  hour  had  come, 
then  she  went  down  in  a  whirlpool,  leaving  Jack 
and  me  struggling  in  the  sea. 

We  were  both  good  swimmers,  so  that  we  did 
not  experience  much  alarm,  especially  when  we 
felt  that  the  sea  was  comparatively  warm ;  we 
struck  out  for  the  shore,  and,  being  the  better 
swimmer  of  the  two,  I  took  the  lead. 

But  now  to  our  horror  we  found  that  we  were 
followed  by  sharks ! 

No  sooner  did  we  observe  this  than  we  struck 
out  with  all  the  energy  of  terror.  We  never 
swam  as  we  did  on  that  occasion.  It  seemed  to  me 
quite  miraculous.  The  water  burst  from  our 
breasts  in  foam,  and  we  left  long  white  tracks  be- 
hind us  as  we  clove  our  way  through  the  water 
like  two  boats.  It  was  awful.  I  shall  never  forget 
my  feelings  on  that  occasion  :  they  were  indescri- 
bable —  inconceivable ! 

We  were  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  a  point 
of  rocks  when  our  ship  sank.  In  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  we  were  close  on  the  rocks. 
Being  several  yards  ahead  of  Jack,  I  was  the  first 
to  clamber  up,  my  heart  fluttering  with  fear,  yet 
filled  with  deep  gratitude  for  my  deliverance 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  319 

I  turned  to  help  Jack.  He  was  yet  six  yards 
from  shore,  when  a  dreadful  shark  made  a  rush 
at  him. 

"  Oh !  quick  !  quick  !  "  I  screamed. 

He  was  panting  and  straining  like  a  lion. 
Another  moment  and  his  hand  would  have  been 
in  mine,  but  at  that  moment  I  beheld  the  double 
rows  of  horrid  teeth  close  upon  him.  He 
uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  there  was  an 
indescribably  horrible  scrunch  as  he  went  down. 
In  a  moment  after  he  re-appeared,  and  making 
a  last  frightful  effort  to  gain  the  rocks,  caught 
my  hand.  I  dragged  him  out  of  danger  instant- 
ly, and  then  I  found,  to  my  unutterable  joy,  that 
the  shark  had  only  bitten  off  the  half  of  his 
wooden  leg ! 

Embracing  each  other  fervently,  we  sat  down 
<jn  the  rocks  to  rest  and  collect  our  thoughts. 


320  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

I  HAVE  often  found,  from  experience,  that  tlio 
more  one  tries  to  collect  one's  thoughts,  the  more 
one's  thoughts  pertinaciously  scatter  themselves 
abroad,  almost  beyond  the  possibility  of  discovery. 
Such  was  the  case  with  me,  after  escaping 
from  the  sea  and  the  sharks,  as  related  circum- 
stantially in  the  last  chapter.  Perhaps  the  truth 
of  this  may  best  be  illustrated  by  laying  before 
my  readers  the  dialogue  that  ensued  between  me 
and  Jack  on  the  momentous  occasion  referred  to, 
as  follows  :  — 

Jack.  "  I  say,  Bob,  where  in  all  the  world  have 
we  got  to  ?  " 

Bob.   "  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know." 

Jack.  "  It's  very  mysterious." 

Bob.   "  What's  very  mysterious  ?  " 

Jack.  "  Where  we've  got  to.  Can't  you 
guess  ?  " 

Bob.   "  Certainly.     Suppose  I  say  Lapland  ?  " 

Jack.    (Shaking  his  head)  "  Won't  do." 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  321 

Bob.  "Why?" 

Jack.  "  'Cause  there  are  no  palm-trees  in  Lap- 
land." 

Bob.  "  Dear  me,  that's  true.  How  confused  my 
head  is  !  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Jack,  I  can't  think. 
That's  it  —  that's  the  cause  of  the  mystery  that 
seems  to  beset  me,  I  can't  tell  how ;  and  then  I've 
been  ill  —  that's  it  too." 

Jack.  "  How  can  there  be  two  causes  for  one  ef- 
fect, Bob  ?  You're  talking  stuff,  man.  If  I  couldn't 
talk  better  sense  than  that,  I'd  not  talk  at  all." 

Bob.  "  Then  why  don't  you  hold  your  tongue  ? 
I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Jack,  we're  bewitched.  You 
said  I  was  mad  some  time  ago.  You  were  right  — 
so  I  am ;  so  are  you.  There  are  too  many  myste- 
ries here  for  any  two  sane  men.  (Here  Jack  mur- 
mured we  weren't  men,  but  boys.)  There's  the 
running  away  and  not  being  caught  —  the  ship 
ready  to  sail  the  moment  we  arrive ;  there's  your 
joining  me  after  all  your  good  advice ;  there's  that 
horrible  fight,  and  the  lions,  and  Edwards,  and  the 
sinking  of  our  ship,  and  the  —  the  —  in  short,  I 
feel  that  Irm  mad  still.  I'm  not  recovered  yet. 
Here,  Jack,  take  care  of  me  ! " 

Instead  of  replying  to  this,  Jack  busied  himself 
21 


322  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

in  fitting  a  piece  of  wood  he  had  picked  up  to  his 
wooden  leg,  and  lashing  it  firmly  to  the  old  stump. 
When  he  had  accomplished  his  task,  he  turned 
gravely  to  me  and  said,  — 

"  Bob,  your  faculties  are  wandering  pretty  wild- 
ly to-day,  but  you've  not  yet  hit  upon  the  cause  of 
all  our  misfortunes.  The  true  cause  is  that  you 
have  disobeyed  your  father,  and  I  my  mother" 

I  hung  my  head.  I  had  now  no  longer  difficulty 
in  collecting  my  thoughts  —  they  circled  round 
that  point  until  I  thought  that  remorse  would  have 
killed  me.  Then  suddenly  I  turned  with  a  look  of 
gladness  to  my  friend. 

"  But  you  forget  the  letter  I    We  are  forgiven ! " 

"  True,"  cried  Jack,  with  a  cheerful  expression ; 
"we  can  face  our  fate  with  that  assurance.  Come, 
let  us  strike  into  the  country  and  discover  where 
we  are.  I'll  manage  to  hop  along  pretty  well  with 
my  wooden  leg.  We'll  get  home  as  soon  as  we 
can,  by  land  if  not  by  water,  and  then  we'll  remain 
.at  home  —  won't  we,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Remain  at  home  ! "  I  cried  ;  "  ay,  that  will  we. 
I've  had  more  than  enough  of  foreign  experiences 
already.  Oh !  Jack,  Jack,  it's  little  I  care  for  the 
Bufferings  I  have  endured  —  but  your  leg,  Jack  1 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  323 

Willingly,  most  willingly,  my  dear  friend,  would  I 
part  with  my  own,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  replace 
yours." 

Jack  took  my  hand  and  squeezed  it.  "  It's  gone 
now,  Bob,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  must  just  make  the 
most  of  the  one  that's  left.  'Tis  a  pity  that  the 
one  that's  left  is  only  the  left  one." 

So  saying  he  turned  his  back  to  the  sea,  and, 
still  retaining  my  hand  in  his,  led  me  into  the 
forest. 

But  here  unthought-of  trouble  awaited  us  at  the 
very  outset  of  our  wanderings.  The  ground  which 
we  first  encountered  was  soft  and  swampy,  so  that 
I  sank  above  the  ankles  at  every  step.  In  these 
circumstances,  as  might  have  been  expected,  poor 
Jack's  wooden  leg  was  totally  useless.  The  first 
step  he  took  after  entering  the  jungle,  his  leg  pene- 
trated the  soft  ground  to  the  depth  of  nine  or  ten 
inches,  and  at  the  second  step  it  disappeared  alto- 
gether —  insomuch  that  he  could  by  no  means  pull 
it  out. 

"  I  say,  Bob,"  said  he,  with  a  rueful  expression 
of  countenance,  "I'm  in  a  real  fix  now,  and  no  mis- 
take. Come  to  anchor  prematurely.  I  resolved  to 
stick  at  nothing,  and  here  I  have  stuck  at  the  first 
step.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 


324  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

Jack's  right  leg  being  deep  down  in  the  ground, 
it  followed,  as  a  physical  consequence,  that  his  left 
leg  was  bent  as  if  he  were  in  a  sitting  posture. 
Observing  this  fact,  just  as  he  made  the  above 
remark,  he  placed  both  his  hands  on  his  left  knee, 
rested  his  chin  on  his  hands,  and  gazed  medita- 
tively at  the  ground.  The  action  tickled  mo  so 
much  that  I  gave  a  short  laugh.  Jack  looked  up 
and  laughed  too,  whereupon  we  both  burst  incon- 
tinently into  an  uproarious  fit  of  laughter,  which 
might  have  continued  ever  so  long  had  not  Jack, 
in  the  fulness  of  his  mirth,  given  his  fixed  leg  a 
twist  that  caused  it  to  crack. 

"Hallo!  Bob,"  he  cried,  becoming  suddenly  very 
grave,  "  I  say,  this  won't  do,  you  know ;  if  I  break 
it  short  off  you'll  have  to  carry  me,  my  boy  :  so  it 
behooves  me  to  be  careful.  What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"  Come,  I'll  help  you  to  pull  it  out." 

"Oh!  that's  not  what  troubles  me.  But  after  we 
get  it  out  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Jack,"  said  I,  seriously,  "  one  thing  at  a  time. 
When  we  get  you  out,  then  it  will  be  time  enough 
to  inquire  what  to  do  next." 

"  That's  sound  philosophy,  Bob ;  where  did  you 
pick  it  up?  I  suspect  you  must  have  been  study. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Satin:  325 

ing  Shakspeare  of  late,  on  the  sly.  But  come,  get 
behind  me,  and  put  your  hands  under  my  arms, 
and  heave  ;  I'll  shove  with  my  sound  limb.  Now 
let  us  act  together.  Stay  !  Bob,  we've  been  long 
enough  aboard  ship  to  know  the  value  of  a  song  in 
producing  unity  of  action.  Take  the  tune  from 
me." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Jack  gave  forth, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  one  or  two  of  those  pecu- 
liarly nautical  howls  wherewith  seamen  are  wont 
to  constrain  windlasses  and  capstans  to  creak,  and 
anchors  to  let  go  their  hold. 

u  Now  then,  heave  away,  my  hearties  ;  yo-heave- 


At  the  last  word  we  both  strained  with  all  our 
might.  I  heard  Jack's  braces  burst  with  the 
effort.  We  both  became  purple  in  the  face,  but 
the  leg  remained  immovable  !  With  a  loud  simul- 
taneous sigh  we  relaxed,  and  looking  at  each  other 
groaned  slightly. 

"Come,  come,  Bob,  never  say  die;  one  trial 
more  ;  it  was  the  braces  that  spoiled  it  that  time. 
Now  then,  cheerily  ho  !  my  hearties,  heave-yo-hee- 
o-HOY!" 

The  united  force  applied  this  time  was  so  great 


326  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

that  we  tore  asunder  all  the  fastenings  of  the  leg  at 
one  wrench,  and  Jack  and  I  suddenly  shot  straight 
up  as  if  we  had  been  discharged  from  a  hole  in  the 
ground.  Losing  our  balance  we  fell  over  each 
other  on  our  backs  —  the  wooden  leg  remaining 
hard  and  fast  in  the  ground. 

"  Ah !  Jack,"  said  I  sorrowfully,  as  I  rubbed  the 
mud  off  my  garments,  "  if  we  had  remained  at 
home  this  would  not  have  happened." 

"  If  we  had  remained  at  home,"  returned  Jack, 
rather  gruffly,  as  he  hopped  towards  his  leg,  "notfi- 
ing  would  have  happened.  Come,  Bob,  lay  hold  of 
it.  Out  it  shall  come,  if  the  inside  of  the  world 
should  come  along  with  it.  There  now  —  heave  I " 

This  time  we  gave  vent  to  no  shout,  but  we 
hove  with  such  a  will,  that  Jack  split  his  jacket 
from  the  waist  to  the  neck,  and  the  leg  came  out 
with  a  crack  that  resembled  the  drawing  of  the 
largest  possible  cork  out  of  the.  biggest  conceiv- 
able bottle. 

Having  accomplished  this  feat  we  congratulated 
each  other,  and  then  sat  down  to  repair  damages. 
This  was  not  an  easy  matter.  It  cost  us  no  little 
thought  to  invent  some  contrivance  that  would 
prevent  the  leg  from  sinking ;  but  at  last  we 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  327 

thought  of  a  plan.  We  cut  a  square  piece  of  bark 
off  a  tree,  the  outer  rind  of  which  was  peculiarly 
tough  and  thick.  In  the  centre  of  this  we  scooped 
a  hole  and  inserted  therein  the  end  of  the  leg, 
fastening  it  thereto  with  pieces  of  twine  that  we 
chanced  to  have  in  our  pockets.  Thus  we  made, 
as  it  were,  an  artificial  foot,  which  when  Jack  tried 
it  served  its  purpose  admirably  —  indeed,  it  acted 
too  well,  for  being  a  broad  base  it  did  not  permit 
the  wooden  leg  to  sink  at  all,  while  the  natural  leg 
did  sink  more  or  less,  and,  as  the  wooden  limb  had 
no  knee,  it  was  stiff  from  hip  to  heel,  and  could  not 
bend,  so  that  I  had  to  walk  behind  my  poor  com- 
rade, and  when  I  observed  him  get  somewhat  into 
the  position  of  the  Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa  I  sprang 
forward  and  supported  him. 

Thus  we  proceeded  slowly  through  the  forest, 
stumbling  frequently,  tumbling  occasionally,  and 
staggering  oft;  but  strange  to  say,  without  either 
of  us  having  any  very  definite  idea  of  where  we 
were  going,  or  what  we  expected  to  find,  or  why 
we  went  in  one  direction  more  than  another.  ID 
fact,  we  proceeded  on  that  eminently  simple  prin- 
ciple which  is  couched  in  the  well-known  and  time- 
honored  phrase,  "  follow  your  nose." 


328  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

True,  once  I  ventured  to  ask  my  companion 
where  he  thought  we  were  going,  to  which  he 
replied,  much  to  my  surprise,  that  he  didn't  know 
and  didn't  care ;  that  it  was  quite  certain  if  we  did 
not  go  forward  we  could  not  expect  to  get  on,  and 
that  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  if  we  pro- 
ceeded we  should  undoubtedly  come  to  something. 
To  this  I  replied,  in  a  meditative  tone,  that  there 
was  much  truth  in  the  observation,  and  that,  at  any 
rate,  if  we  did  not  come  to  something,  something 
would  certainly  come  to  us. 

But  we  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  In  fact,  we 
were  too  much  taken  up  with  the  interesting  and 
amusing  sights  that  met  our  gaze  in  that  singular 
forest ;  insomuch  that  on  several  occasions  I  neg- 
lected my  peculiar  duty  of  watching  Jack,  and 
was  only  made  aware  of  my  carelessness  by  hear- 
ing him  shout,  "  Hallo  !  Bob,  look  alive  !  —  I'm 
over  !  "  when  I  would  suddenly  drop  my  eyes  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  plumage  of  a  parrot  or 
the  antics  of  a  monkey,  to  behold  my  friend  lean- 
ing over  at  an  angle  of  "  forty-five."  To  leap  for- 
ward  and  catch  him  in  my  arms  was  the  work  of 
an  instant.  On  each  of  these  occasions,  after  set- 
ting him  upright,  I  used  to  give  him  a  tender  hug, 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  329 

to  indicate  my  regret  at  having  been  so  inatten- 
tive, and  my  sympathy  with  him  in  his  calamitous 
circumstances. 

Poor  Jack  was  very  gentle  and  uncomplaining. 
He  even  made  light  of  his  misfortune,  and  laughed 
a  good  deal  at  himself;  but  I  could  see,  neverthe- 
less, that  his  spirits  were  at  times  deeply  affected, 
in  spite  of  his  brave  efforts  to  bear  up  and  appear 
gay  and  creerful. 


330  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 


CHAPTER    VI1L 

IT  was  evening  when  we  were  cast  ashore  in  this 
new  country,  so  that  we  had  not  advanced  far  into 
the  forest  before  night  closed  in  and  compelled  u? 
to  halt ;  for,  had  we  continued  our  journey  in  the 
dark,  we  should  certainly  have  been  drowned  in 
one  of  the  many  deep  morasses  which  abounded 
there,  and  which  we  had  found  it  difficult  to  steer 
clear  of,  even  in  daylight. 

As  the  moon  arose  and  the  stars  began  to  glim- 
mer in  the  sky,  I  observed,  to  my  dismay,  that  all 
kinds  of  noxious  creatures  and  creeping  things 
began  to  move  about,  and  strange  hissing  sounds 
and  low  dismal  hootings  and  wails  were  heard  at 
times  indistinctly,  as  if  the  place  were  the  abode 
of  evil  spirits,  who  were  about  to  wake  up  to  in- 
dulge in  their  midnight  orgies. 

"  Oh  !  Jack, "  said  I,  shuddering  violently,  as  I 
stopped  and  seized  my  companion  by  the  arm.  "  I 
can't  tell  what  it  is  that  fills  me  with  an  unaccount- 
able sensation  »f  dread.  I  —  I  feel  as  if  we  should 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  331 

nevei  more  get  out  of  this  horrible  swamp,  or  see 
again  the  blessed  light  of  day.  See !  see !  what 
horrid  creature  is  that  ?  " 

"  Pooh  1  man,"  interrupted  Jack,  with  a  degree 
of  levity  in  his  tone  which  surprised  me  much. 
"  It's  only  a  serpent.  All  these  kind  o'  things  are 
regular  cowards.  Only  let  them  alone  and  they're 
sure  to  let  you  alone.  I  should  like  above  all 
things  to  tickle  up  one  o'  these  brutes,  and  let  him 
have  a  bite  at  my  wooden  toe !  It  would  be  rare 
fun,  wouldn't  it,  Bob,  eh  ?  Come,  let  us  push  on, 
and  see  that  you  keep  me  straight,  old  fellow  !  " 

I  made  no  reply  for  some  time.  I  was  horri- 
fied at  my  comrade's  levity  in  such  circumstances. 
Then,  as  I  heard  him  continue  to  chuckle  and  re- 
mark in  an  undertone  on  the  surprise  the  serpent 
would  get  on  discovering  the  exceeding  toughness 
of  his  toe,  it  for  the  first  time  flashed  across  my 
mind  that  his  sufferings  had  deranged  my  dear 
companion's  intellect. 

The  bare  probability  of  such  a  dreadful  calamity 
was  sufficient  to  put  to  flight  all  my  previous  ter- 
rors. I  now  cared  nothing  whatever  for  the  loath- 
some reptiles  that  wallowed  in  the  swamps  around 
rae;  and  the  quiet  glidings  and  swelterings  of  whose 


332  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

hideous  forms  were  distinctly  audible  in  the  still- 
ness of  approaching  night.  My  whole  anxiety  was 
centred  on  Jack.  I  thought  that  if  I  could  pre- 
vail on  him  to  rest  he  might  recover,  and  proposed 
that  we  should  encamp ;  but  he  would  not  hear  of 
this.  He  kept  plunging  on,  staggering  through 
brake  and  swamp,  reedy  pond  and  quaking  morass, 
until  I  felt  myself  utterly  unable  to  follow  him  a 
step  farther. 

Just  at  this  point  Jack  stopped  abruptly  and 
said,  —  "  Bob,  my  boy,  we'll  camp  here." 

It  was  a  fearful  spot.  Dark,  dismal,  and  not  a 
square  foot  of  dry  ground. 

"  Here,  Jack  ?  "  —  "  Ay,  here." 

"But  it's  —  it's  all  wet.  Excuse  me,  my  dear 
comrade,  I've  not  yet  acquired  the  habit  of  sleep- 
ing in  water." 

"  No  more  have  I,  Bob ;  we  shall  sleep  on  a 
fallen  tree,  my  boy.  Did  you  never  hear  of  men 
sleeping  in  a  swamp  on  the  top  of  a  log?  It's 
often  done,  I  assure  you,  and  I  mean  to  do  it  to- 
night. See,  here  is  a  good  large  one,  three  feet 
broad  by  twenty  feet  long,  with  lots  of  stumps  of 
broken  branches  to  keep  us  from  rolling  off.  Come, 
let's  Vegin.'1 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  /Sailor.  333 

We  immediately  began  to  make  our  arrange- 
ments for  the  night.  With  the  aid  of  our  clasp- 
knives  we  cut  a  quantity  of  leafy  branches,  and 
spread  them  on  the  trunk  of  a  huge  prostrated 
tree,  the  half  of  which  was  sunk  in  the  swamp, 
but  the  other  half  was  sufficiently  elevated  to 
raise  us  well  out  of  the  water.  The  bed  was 
more  comfortable  than  one  would  suppose ;  and, 
being  very  tired,  we  lay  down  on  it  as  soon  as  it 
was  made,  and  tried  to  sleep :  having  nothing  to 
eat,  we  thought  it  well  to  endeavor  to  obtain  all 
the  refreshment  we  could  out  of  sleep. 

We  had  not  lain  long,  when  I  started  up  in  a 
fright,  and  cried,  — "  Hallo  !  Jack,  what's  that  ? 
See,  through  the  reeds ;  it  creeps  slowly.  Oh, 
horror !  it  comes  towards  us  ! " 

Jack  looked  at  it  sleepily.  "  It's  an  alligator," 
said  he.  "  If  it  approaches  too  close,  just  wake 
me;  but,  pray,  don't  keep  howling  at  eveiy 
thing  that  comes  to  peep  at  us." 

Just  at  that  moment,  the  hideous  reptile  drew 
near,  and,  opening  its  jaws,  let  them  come  together 
with  a  snap  1  Even  Jack  was  not  proof  against 
this.  He  started  up,  and  looked  about  for  a  de- 
fensive weapon.  We  had  nothing  but  our  clasp- 
knives.  The  alligator  wallowed  towards  us. 


334  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

''  Oh  for  an  axe  !  "  gasped  Jack. 

The  brute  was  within  a  few  yards  of  us  now. 
I  was  transfixed  with  horror.  Suddenly  an  idea 
occurred  to  me.  "  Your  leg,  Jack,  your  leg ! " 

He  understood  me.  One  sweep  of  his  clasp- 
knife  cut  all  the  fastenings  —  the  next  moment 
he  grasped  the  toe  in  both  hands,  and,  swaying 
the  heavy  butt  of  the  limb  in  the  air,  brought  it 
down  with  all  his  force  on  the  skull  of  the  alliga- 
tor. It  rang  like  the  sound  of  a  blow  on  an 
empty  cask.  Again  the  limb  was  swayed  aloft, 
and  descended  with  extraordinary  violence  on  the 
extreme  point  of  the  alligator's  snout.  There  was 
a  loud  crash,  as  if  of  small  bones  being  driven  in. 
The  animal  paused,  put  its  head  on  one  side,  and 
turning  slowly  round  waddled  away  into  the  noi« 
some  recesses  of  its  native  swamp. 

Scarcely  had  we  recovered  from  the  effects  of 
this,  when  we  heard  in  the  distance  shouts  and 
yells  and  the  barking  of  dogs.  Crouching  in  our 
nest  we  listened  intently.  The  sounds  approached, 
but  while  those  who  made  them  were  yet  at  some 
distance  we  were  startled  by  the  sudden  approach 
of  a  dark  object,  running  at  full  speed.  It  seemed 
like  a  man,  or  rather  a  huge  ape,  for  it  was  black, 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  335 

and  as  it  came  tearing  towards  us,  running  on  its 
hind-legs,  we  could  see  its  eyes  glaring  in  the 
moonlight,  and  could  hear  its  laboring  breath.  It 
was  evidently  hard  pressed  by  its  pursuers,  for  i' 
did  not  see  what  lay  before  it,  and  had  well-nig] 
run  over  our  couch  ere  it  observed  Jack  standing 
on  one  leg,  with  the  other  limb  raised  in  a  threat- 
ening attitude  above  his  head.  It  was  too  late  to 
turn  to  avoid  the  blow. 

Uttering  a  terrible*  cry  the  creature  fell  on  its 
knees,  and,  trembling  violently,  cried  — 

"  Oh,  massa !  oh,  massa,  spare  me  !  Me  no  run 
away  agin.  Mercy,  massa !  mercy  ! " 

"  Silence,  you  noisy  villain,"  cried  Jack,  seizing 
the  negro  by  the  hair  of  the  head. 

"  Yis,  massa,"  gasped  the  man,  while  his  teeth 
chattered  and  the  whites  of  his  eyes  rolled  fear- 
fully. 

"What  are  you?  Where  d'ye  come  from? 
Who's  after  ye?" 

To  these  abrupt  questions,  the  poor  negro  re- 
plied as  briefly  that  he  was  a  runaway  slave,  and 
that  his  master  and  bloodhounds  were  after  him. 

We  had  guessed  as  much,  and  the  deep  baying 
of  the  hounds  convinced  us  of  the  truth  of  hi« 
statement. 


336  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

u  Quick,"  cried  Jack,  dragging  ths  blacK  to  the 
edge  of  our  log,  "  get  under  there ;  lie  flat ;  keep 
still ; "  so  saying  he  thrust  the  negro  under  the 
branches  that  formed  our  couch.  We  covered  him 
well  up  and  then  sat  down  on  him.  Before  we 
had  well  finished  our  task  the  foremost  of  the 
bloodhounds  came  bounding  towards  us,  with  its 
eyeballs  glaring  and  its  white  fangs  glittering  in 
the  dim  light  like  glow-worms  in  a  blood-red  cav- 
ern. It  made  straight  for  the  spot  where  the 
negro  was  concealed,  and  would  have  seized  him 
in  another  instant,  had  not  Jack,  with  one  blow 
of  his  leg,  beat  in  its  skull. 

"  Shove  him  out  of  sight,  Bob." 

I  seized  the  dead  hound  and  obeyed,  while  my 
comrade  prepared  to  receive  the  second  dog.  But 
that  animal  seemed  more  timid.  It  swerved  as  the 
blow  was  delivered,  received  on  its  haunches,  and 
fled  away  howling  in  another  direction. 

Jack  at  once  laid  down  his  leg  and  sat  down  on 
the  negro,  motioning  me  to  do  the  same.  Then 
pulling  an  old  tobacco-pipe  out  of  his  pocket,  he 
affected  to  be  calmly  employed  in  filling  it  when 
the  pursuers  came  up.  There  were  two  of  them, 
in  straw  hats  and  nankeen  pantaloons,  armed  with 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  337 

cudgels,  and  a  more  ruffianly  pair  of  villains  I  never 
saw  before  or  since. 

"  Hallo  !  strangers,"  cried  one,  as  they  halted 
for  a  few  moments  on  observing  us.  "  Queer  place 
to  camp.  Fond  o'  water  and  dirt,  I  guess  ?  " 

"  You  seem  fond  o'  dirt  and  not  o'  water,  to  judge 
from  your  faces,"  replied  Jack,  calmly,  attempting 
to  light  his  pipe,  which  was  rather  a  difficult  opera- 
tion, seeing  that  it  was  empty  and  he  had  no  fire. 
"  Ah !  my  light's  out.  Could  you  lend  us  a  match, 
friend?" 

"  No,  we  can't.  No  time.  Hain't  got  none.  Did 
you  see  a  nigger  pass  this  way  ?  " 

"  Ha  !  you're  after  him,  are  you  ? "  cried  Jack, 
indignantly.  "  Do  you  suppose  I'd  tell  you  if  I 
did?  Go  and  find  him  for  yourselves." 

The  two  men  frowned  fiercely  at  this,  and  ap- 
peared about  to  attack  us.  But  they  changed 
their  minds,  and  said,  "  Mayhap  you'll  tell  us  if  ye 
saw  two  hounds,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"  Which  way  did  they  pass  ?  " 

"  They  haven't  passed  yet,"  replied  Jack,  with 
deep  sarcasm,  at  the  same  time  quietly  lifting  his  leg 


338    .        Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor, 

and  swaying  it  gently  to  and  fro  ;  "  whether  they'll 
pass  without  a  licking  remains  to  be  seen." 

"  Look'ee,  lads,  we'll  pay  you  for  this,"  shouted 
the  men  as  they  turned  aAvay.  "  We've  not  time 
to  waste  now,  but  we'll  come  back." 

I  remonstrated  with  my  friend.  "  You're  too 
rash,  Jack." 

"  Why  ?     We  don't  need  to  fear  two  men  !  " 
"  Ay,  but  there  may  be  more  in  the  woods." 
My  surmise  was  correct.     Half  an  hour  after  the 
hound  was  heard  returning.     It  came  straight  at 
us,  followed  by  at  least  a  dozen  men.     Jack  killed 
the  dog  with  one  blow,  and  felled  the  first  man 
that  came  up,  but  we  were  overwhelmed  by  num- 
bers, and,  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell  it,  both  of  us  were  knocked  into  the  mud  and 
rendered  insensible. 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  339 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ON  recovering  from  the  stunning  effects  of  the 
blow  that  had  felled  me,  I  found  myself  lying  on  a 
hard  earthen  floor,  surrounded  by  deep  impene- 
trable darkness. 

"  Are  you  there,  Jack  ?  "  I  sighed  faintly. 

"  Ay,  Bob,  I'm  here  —  at  least,  all  o'  me  that's 
left.  I  confess  to  you  that  I  do  feel  a  queer  sensa- 
tion, as  if  the  one  half  of  my  head  were  absent  and 
the  other  half  a-wanting,  while  the  brain  lies  ex- 
posed to  the  atmosphere.  But  I  suppose  that's 
impossible." 

"  Where  are  we,  Jack?  " 

"  We're  in  an  outhouse,  in  the  hands  of  planters ; 
PO  I  made  out  by  what  I  heard  them  say  when  I 
got  my  senses  back ;  but  I've  no  notion  of  what 
part  o'  the  world  we're  in.  Moreover,  I  don't  care. 
A  man  with  only  one  leg,  no  head,  and  an  exposed 
brain,  isn't  worth  caring  about.  /  don't  care  for 
him  —  not  a  button." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  dear,  don't  speak  like  that  —  I  can't 
stand  it." 


340  Wliy  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

11  You're  lying  down,  ain't  you  ?  "  inquired  Jack. 

"  Yes."  — "  Then  how  d'you  know  whether  you 
can  stand  it  or  not  ?  " 

I  was  so  overcome,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  sur- 
prised, at  my  companion's  recklessness,  that  I  could 
not  reply.  I  lay  motionless  on  the  hard  ground, 
meditating  on  our  forlorn  situation,  when  my 
thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  grating  sound 
of  a  key  turning  in  a  lock.  The  door  of  the  hut 
opened,  and  four  men  entered,  each  bearing  a 
torch,  which  cast  a  brilliant  glare  over  the  hovel 
in  which  we  were  confined.  There  was  almost 
nothing  to  be  seen  in  the  place.  It  was  quite 
empty.  The  only  peculiar  thing  that  I  observed 
about  it  was  a  thick  post,  with  iron  hooks  fixed  in 
it,  which  rose  from  the  centre  of  the  floor  to  the 
rafters,  against  which  it  was  nailed.  There  were 
also  a  few  strange-looking  implements  hanging 
round  the  walls,  but  I  could  not  at  first  make  out 
what  these  were  intended  for.  I  now  perceived 
that  Jack  and  I  were  chained  to  the  wall. 

Going  to  the  four  corners  of  the  apartment,  the 
four  men  placed  their  four  torches  in  four  stands 
that  seemed  made  for  the  purpose,  and  then, 
approaching  us,  ranged  themselves  in  a  row  before 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  341 

us.  Two  of  them  I  recognized  as  being  the  men 
we  had  first  seen  in  the  swamp;  the  other  two 
were  strangers. 

"  So,  my  bucks,"  began  one  of  the  former,  —  a 
hideous-looking  man,  whose  personal  appearance 
was  by  no  means  improved  by  a  closed  eye,  a 
flattened  nose,  and  a  swelled  cheek,  the  result 
of  Jack's  first  flourish  of  his  wooden  leg,  — "  so, 
we've  got  you,  have  we  ?  The  hounds  have  got 
you,  eh  ?  " 

"  So  it  appears,"  replied  Jack,  in  a  tone  of  quiet 
contempt,  as  he  sat  on  the  ground  with  his  back 
leaning  against  the  wall,  his  hands  clasped  above 
his  solitary  knee,  and  his  thumbs  revolving  round 
each  other  slowly.  "I  say,"  continued  Jack,  as 
an  expression  of  concern  crossed  his  handsome 
countenance,  "  I'm  afraid  you're  damaged,  rather, 
about  your  head-piece.  Your  eye  seems  a  little 
out  of  order,  and,  pardon  me,  but  your  nose 
is  a  little  too  flat — just  a  little.  My  poor  fellow, 
I'm  quite  sorry  for  you  ;  I  really  am,  though  you 
are  a  dog." 

The  man  opened  his  solitary  eye  and  stared  with 
amazement  at  Jack,  who  smiled,  and,  putting  his 
head  a  little  tc  the  other  side,  returned  the  stare 
with  interest. 


342  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

"  You're  a  bold  fellow,"  said  the  man,  on  recov- 
ering a  little  from  his  surprise. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  retorted  Jack,  "  that  I  cannot 
return  you  the  compliment." 

I  was  horrified.  I  saw  that  my  poor  iriend, 
probably  under  the  influence  of  madness,  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  insult  and  defy  our  captors 
to  their  teeth,  regardless  of  consequences.  I 
tried  to  speak,  but  my  lips  refused  their  office. 
The  man  grinned  horribly  and  gnashed  his  teeth, 
while  the  others  made  as  though  they  would  rush 
upon  us  and  tear  us  limb  from  limb.  But  their 
chief,  for  such  the  spokesman  seemed  to  be,  re- 
strained them. 

"  Hah ! "  he  gasped,  looking  fiercely  at  Jack,  and 
at  the  same  time  pointing  to  the  implements  on  the 
wall,  "  d'ye  see  these  things  ?  " 

"  Not  being  quite  so  blind  as  you  are,  I  do." 

"  D'ye  know  what  they're  for  ?  " 

"Not  being  a  demon,  which  you  seem  to  be, 
I  don't." 

"Hah!  these  —  are"  (he  spoke  very  slowly, 
and  hissed  the  words  out  between  his  teeth)  — 
"  torterers  ! " 

"  What?  "  inquired  Jack,  putting  his  head  a  little 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  343 

more  to  one  side  and  revolving  his  thumbs  in  a 
contrary  direction,  by  way  of  variety. 

"  Torterers  —  man-torterers !  What  d'ye  twirl 
your  thumbs  like  that  for,  eh  ?  " 

"  Because  it  reminds  me  how  easily,  if  I  were 
unchained  and  had  on  my  wooden  leg,  I  could 
twirl  you  round  your  own  neck,  and  cram  your 
heels  into  your  own  mouth,  and  ram  you  down  your 
own  throat,  until  there  was  nothing  of  you  left  but 
the  extreme  ends  of  your  shirt-collar  sticking  out 
of  your  eyes." 

The  mention  of  this  peculiarly  complicated 
operation  seemed  to  be  too  much  for  the  men: 
setting  up  a  loud  yell,  they  rushed  upon  Jack  and 
seized  him. 

"  Quick  —  the  screws  !  "  cried  the  man  with  the 
flattened  nose. 

A  small  iron  instrument  was  brought,  Jack's 
thumbs  inserted  therein,  and  the  handle  turned. 
I  heard  a  harsh,  grating  sound,  and  observed  my 
poor  companion's  face  grow  deadly  pale  and  his 
lips  turn  blue.  But  he  uttered  no  cry,  and,  to  my 
surprise,  he  did  not  even  struggle. 

"  STOP !  "  I  shouted  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

The   men  looked   round  in  surprise.     At   that 


344  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

moment  a  great  idea  seemed  to  fill  my  soul.  I 
cannot  explain  what  it  was.  To  this  day  I  do  not 
know  what  it  was.  It  was  a  mystery  —  an  inde- 
scribable mystery.  I  felt  as  one  might  be  supposed 
to  feel  whose  spirit  were  capable  of  eating  material 
food,  and  had  eaten  too  much.  It  was  awful ! 
Under  the  impulse  of  this  sensation,  I  again 
shouted  "  Stop ! " 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  why,  until  you  unscrew  that 
machine.  Quick !  it  is  of  the  deepest,  the  most 
vital  importance  to  yourselves." 

The  extreme  earnestness  of  my  voice  and  man- 
ner induced  the  men  to  comply  almost,  I  might  say, 
in  spite  of  themselves. 

"Now,  lad,  what  is  it?  Mind,  your  turn  is 
coming ;  so  don't  trifle  with  us." 

"  Trifle  with  you  ! "  I  said,  in  a  voice  so  deep, 
and  slow,  and  solemn,  —  with  a  look  so  preter- 
naturally  awful,  —  that  the  four  men  were  visibly 
impressed. 

"  Listen  !  I  have  a  secret  to  tell  you,  —  a  secret 
that  intimately  concerns  yourselves.  It  is  a  fear- 
fill  one.  You  would  give  all  you  possess  —  your 
wealth,  your  very  lives  —  rather  than  riot  know  it 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  345 

I  can  tell  it  to  you ;  but  not  now.  All  the  tortures 
of  the  Inquisition  could  not  drag  it  out  of  me. 
Nay,  you  need  not  smile.  If  you  did  torture  me 
before  I  told  you  this  secret,  that  would  have  the 
effect  of  rendering  my  information  useless  to  you. 
Nothing  could  then  save  you.  I  rnu^t  be  left  alone 
with  my  friend  for  an  hour.  Go !  You  may  leave 
us  chained ;  you  may  lock  and  bar  your  door ;  you 
may  watch  and  guard  the  house ;  but  go,  leave 
us.  Much  —  too  much  —  valuable  time  has  been 
already  lost.  Come  back  in  one  hour  (here  I  pulled 
out  my  watch)  —  in  one  hour  and  three  minutes 
and  five  seconds,  exactly;  not  sooner.  Go!  quick! 
as  you  value  your  lives,  your  families,  your  prop- 
erty. And  hark,  in  your  ear "  (here  I  glared  at 
them  like  a  maniac,  and  sank  my  voice  to  a  deep 
hoarse  whisper),  "  as  you  value  the  very  existence 
of  your  slaves,  go,  leave  us  instantly,  and  return  at 
the  hour  named !  " 

The  men  were  evidently  overawed  by  the  vehe- 
mence of  my  manner  and  the  mysterious  nature  of 
my  remarks.  Without  uttering  a  word  they  with- 
drew, and  locked  the  door  behind  them.  Happily 
they  left  the  torches. 

As   soon  as  they  were  gone  I  threw  my  arms 


3-16  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

round  my  comrade's  neck,  and  resting  my  head  OK 
his  shoulder  bemoaned  our  sad  lot. 

"Dear,  dear  Jack,  have  they  hurt  you?" 
"  Oh !  nothing  to  speak  of.     But  I  say,  Bob,  my 
boy,  what  on  earth  can  this  monstrous  secret  be  ? 
It  must  be  something  very  tremendous  ? " 

"  My  poor  Jack,"  said  I,  regardless  of  his  ques- 
tion, "  your  thumbs  are  bruised  and  bleeding.  Oh 
that  I  should  have  lived  to  bring  you  to  this ! " 

"  Come,  come,  Bob,  enough  of  that.  They  are  a 
little  soreish,  but  nothing  to  what  they  would  have 
been  had  you  not  stopped  them.  But,  I  say,  what 
is  this  secret  ?  I'm  dying  to  know.  My  dear  boy, 
you've  no  idea  how  you  looked  when  you  were 
spouting  like  that.  You  made  my  flesh  creep, 
I  assure  you.  Come,  out  with  it ;  what's  the  se- 
cret?" 

I  felt,  and  no  doubt  looked,  somewhat  con- 
fused. 

"  Do  you  know,  Jack,"  said  I,  solemnly,  "  I  have 
no  secret  whatever  1 " 

Jack  gasped  and  stared,  —  "  No  secret,  Bcb  ! " 
"  Not  the  most  distant  shadow  of  one." 
Jack  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  — • 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  347 

"Bob,  my  boy,  we  have  just  got  about  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  to  live.  When  these  villains 
come  back,  and  find  that  you've  been  humbugging 
them,  they'll  brain  us  on  the  spot,  as  sure  as  my 
name  is  John  Brown  and  yours  is  Robert  Smith 
—  romantic  names,  both  of  'em;  especially  when 
associated  with  the  little  romance  in  which  we 
are  now  involved.  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

I  shrank  back  from  my  friend  with  the  terrible 
dread,  which  had  more  than  once  crossed  my  mind, 
that  he  was  going  mad. 

"  Oh,  Jack,  don't  laugh,  pray.  Could  we  not 
invent  some  secret  to  tell  them?" 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,"  returned  my  friend,  gravely. 

"  Well,  let  us  think ;  what  could  we  say  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that's  the  rub  !  Suppose  we  tell  them  se- 
riously that  my  wooden  leg  is  a  ghost,  and  that  it 
haunts  those  who  ill-treat  its  master,  giving  them 
perpetual  bangs  on  the  nose,,  and  otherwise  render- 
ing their  lives  miserable  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Well,  then,  suppose  we  say  we've  been  sent 
by  the  Queen  of  England  to  treat  with  them  about 
the  liberation  of  the  niggers  at  a  thousand  pounds 
a-head ;  one  hundred  paid  down  in  gold,  the  rest  in 
American  shin-plasters  ?  " 


S48  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

"  That  would  be  a  lie,  you  know,  Jack." 

"  Come,  that's  good !  You're  wonderfully  par- 
ticular  about  truth,  for  a  man  that  has  just  told 
such  tremendous  falsehoods  about  a  secret  that 
doesn't  exist." 

"  True,  Jack,"  I  replied,  seriously,  "  I  confess 
that  I  have  lied  ;  but  I  did  not  mean  to.  I  assure 
you  I  had  no  notion  of  what  I  was  saying.  I 
think  I  was  bewitched.  All  your  nonsense  rolled 
out,  as  it  were,  without  my  will.  Indeed,  I  did 
not  mean  to  tell  lies.  Yet  I  confess,  to  my  shame, 
that  I  did.  There  is  some  mystery  here,  which  I 
can  by  no  means  fathom." 

"Fathom  or  not  fathom,"  rejoined  my  friend, 
looking  at  his  watch  again,  "  you  got  me  into 
this  scrape,  so  I  request  you  to  get  me  out  of  it. 
We  have  exactly  twenty-five  minutes  and  a  half 
before  us  now." 

Jack  and  I  now  set  to  work  in  real  earnest  to 
devise  some  plan  of  escape,  or  to  invent  some 
plausible  secret.  But  we  utterly  failed.  Minute 
after  minute  passed ;  and  as  the  end  of  our  time 
drew  near  we  felt  less  and  less  able  to  think  of 
any  scheme,  until  our  brains  became  confused  with 
the  terror  of  approaching  and  inevitable  death, 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  349 

aggravated  "by  previous  torture.  I  trembled  vio- 
lently, and  Jack  became  again  uproarious  and  sar- 
castic. Suddenly  he  grew  quiet,  and  I  observed 
that  he  began  to  collect  a  quantity  of  straw  that 
was  scattered  about  the  place.  Making  a  large 
pile  of  it,  he  placed  it  before  us,  and  then  loos- 
ened one  of  the  torches  in  its  stand. 

"  There,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
when  all  was  arranged,  "we  shall  give  our  amiable 
friends  a  warm  reception  when  they  come." 

"  But  they  will  escape  by  the  door,"  said  I,  in 
much  anxiety,  "  and  we  only  shall  perish." 

"  Never  mind  that,  Bob ;  we  can  only  die  once. 
Besides,  they  sha'n't  escape ;  trust  me  for  that." 

As  he  spoke  we  heard  approaching  footsteps. 
Presently  the  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  the  door 
opened. 


350  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 


CHAPTER    X. 

PUNCTUALLY,  to  a  minute,  our  jailors  returned, 
and  once  again  drew  up  in  a  row  before  us. 

"  Now,  lads,  wot  have  ye  got  to  say  ?  " 

"  My  friends,"  began  Jack,  standing  up  and  bal- 
ancing himself  on  his  one  leg  as  well  as  he  could, 
at  the  same  time  speaking  with  the  utmost  gravity 
and  candor  of  expression,  "  my  companion  here  in 
temporary  distress — for  I  feel  that  it  will  be  but 
temporary  —  has  devolved  upon  me  the  interesting 
duty  of  making  known  to  you  the  secret  which  has 
burthened  his  own  mind  for  some  time,  and  which 
has  had  so  impressive  and  appropriate  an  effect 
upon  yours.  But  first  I  must  request  you  to  lock 
the  door,  and  hang  the  key  on  this  nail  at  my 
elbow.  You  hesitate.  Why  ?  I  am  in  chains ;  so 
is  my  comrade.  We  ai  e  two  ;  you  are  four.  It  is 
merely  a  precaution  to  prevent  the  possibility  of 
any  one  entering  by  stealth,  and  overhearing  what 
I  say." 

The  man  with  the  battered  face  locked  the  door, 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  351 

and  hung  up  the  key  as  directed,  merely  remark- 
ing,  with  a  laugh,  that  we  were  safe  enough  any- 
how,  and  that  if  we  were  humbugging  him  it 
would  be  worse  for  us  in  the  long-run. 

"  Come,  now,  out  with  yer  secret,"  he  added,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Jack,  with  increased  ur 
banity,  at  the  same  time  taking  down  the  key 
(which  caused  the  four  men  to  start),  and  gazing 
at  it  in  a  pensive  manner.  "  The  secret !  Ah ! 
yes.  Well,  it's  a  wonderful  one.  D'you  know,  my 
lads,  there  would  not  be  the  most  distant  chance 
of  your  guessing  it,  if  you  were  to  try  ever  so 
much?" 

"  Well,  but  what  is  it  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  men, 
whose  curiosity  was  now  excited  beyond  endur- 
ance. "  It  is  this,"  rejoined  Jack,  with  slow  delib- 
eration, "  that  you  four  men  are  "  — 

"  Well,"  they  whispered,  leaning  forward  ea- 
gerly. 

"  The  most  outrageous  and  unmitigated  asses  we 
ever  saw !  Ha !  I  thought  it  would  surprise  you. 
Bob  and  I  are  quite  agreed  upon  it.  Pray  don't 
open  your  eyes  too  wide,  in  case  you  should  find  it 
difficult  to  shut  them  again.  Now,  in  proof  of  this 


352  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

great,  and  to  you  important  truth,  let  me  show  you 
a  thing.  Do  you  see  this  torch  (taking  it  down) 
and  that  straw  (lifting  up  a  handful)?  Well,  you 
have  no  idea  what  an  astonishing  result  will  follow 
the  application  of  the  former  to  the  latter  —  see  !  " 

To  my  horror,  and  evidently  to  the  dismay  of 
the  men,  who  did  not  seem  to  believe  that  he  was 
in  earnest,  Jack  Brown  thrust  the  blazing  torch 
into  the  centre  of  the  heap  of  straw. 

The  men  uttered  a  yell,  and  rushing  forward, 
threw  themselves  on  the  smoking  heap  in  the  hope 
of  smothering  it  at  once.  But  Jack  applied  the 
torch  quickly  to  various  parts.  The  flames  leaped 
up !  The  men  rolled  off  in  agony.  Jack,  who  some- 
how had  managed  to  break  his  chain,  hopped  after 
them,  showering  the  blazing  straw  on  their  heads, 
and  yelling  as  never  mortal  yelled  before.  In  two 
seconds  the  whole  place  was  in  a  blaze,  and  I 
beheld  Jack  actually  throwing  somersets  with 
his  one  leg  over  the  fire  and  through  the  smoke ; 
punching  the  heads  ot  the  four  men  most  unmerci- 
fully ;  catching  up  blazing  handfuls  of  straw,  and 
thrusting  them  into  their  eyes  and  mouths  in  a 
way  that  quite  overpowered  me.  I  could  restrain 
myself  no  longer.  I  began  to  roar  in  abject  ter- 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  353 

ror !  In  the  midst  of  this  dreadful  scene  the  roof 
fell  in  with  a  hideous  crash,  and  Jack,  bounding 
through  the  smoking  debris,  cleared  the  walls  and 
vanished  ! 

At  the  same  moment  I  received  a  dreadful  blow 
on  the  side,  and  awoke  —  to  find  myself  lying 
on  the  floor  of  my  bedroom,  and  our  man-servant 
Edwards  furiously  boating  the  bed-curtains,  which 
I  had  set  on  fire  by  upsetting  the  candle  in  my 
fall. 

"  Why,  Master  Robert,"  gasped  Edwards,  sitting 
down  and  panting  vehemently,  after  having  extin- 
guished the  flames,  "  wot  have  you  been  a-doin' 
of?"  I  was  standing  speechless  in  the  midst  of 
my  upset  chair,  table,  and  books,  glaring  wildly, 
when  the  man  said  this. 

"Edwards,"  I  replied,  with  deep  solemnity, 
"  the  mystery's  cleared  up  at  last.  It  has  been  all 
a  dream  I " 

"  Wot's  been  all  a  dream  ?  You  hain't  bin  a  bed 
all  night,  for  the  clo'se  is  never  toucl  ed,  an'  its 
broad  daylight.  Wot  has  bin  up  ?  " 

I  might  have  replied,  that,  according  to  his  own 
statement,  I  had  been  "up,"  but  I  did  not.  I 

23 


354  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

began  gradually  to  believe  that  the  dreadful  scenes 
I  had  witnessed  were  not  reality;  and  an  over- 
powering sense  of  joy  kept  filling  my  heart  as  I 
continued  to  glare  at  the  man  until  I  thought  my 
chest  would  rend  asunder.  Suddenly,  and  without 
moving  hand,  foot,  or  eye,  I  gave  vent  to  a  loud, 
sharp  "  Hurrah  !  " 

Edwards  started  —  "  Eh  !  " 

"  Hurrah  1  hurrah  !  it's  a  DREAM ! " 

"  Hallo  !  I  say,  you  know,  come,  this  won't  "  — 

"  Hurrah !  " 

"  Bless  my  'art,  Master  Ro  "  — 

Again  I  interrupted  him  by  seizing  my  cap, 
swinging  it  round  my  head  in  an  ecstasy  of  de- 
light, and  uttering  cheer  upon  cheer  with  such 
outrageous  vehemence,  that  Edwards,  who  thought 
me  raving  mad,  crept  towards  the  door,  intending 
to  bolt. 

He  was  prevented  from  carrying  out  his  inten- 
tion, and  violently  overturned  by  the  entrance  of 
my  father  in  dishabille.  I  sprang  forward,  plucked 
the  spectacles  off  his  nose,  threw  my  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  kissed  him  on  both  eyes. 

"  I  won't  run  away  now,  father,  no,  no,  no  !  i.t'a 
all  a  dream  —  a  horrid  dream  1  ha !  ha  1  ha !  " 


Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor.  355 

"  Bob,  my  dear  boy  !  " — 

At  this  moment.  Jack,  also  in  dishabil  e,  rushed 
in.  "  Hallo  !  Bob,  what's  aU  the  row  ?  » 

I  experienced  a  different,  but  equally  powerful 
gush  of  feeling  on  seeing  my  friend.  Leaving  my 
father,  I  rushed  towards  him,  and,  falling  on  his 
neck,  burst  into  tears.  Yes,  I  confess  it  without 
shame.  Reader,  if  you  had  felt  as  I  did,  you  would 
have  done  the  same. 

Jack  led  me  gently  to  my  bed,  and,  seating  me 
on  the  edge  of  it,  sat  down  beside  me.  I  at  once 
perceived  from  their  looks  that  they  all  thought  me 
mad,  and  felt  the  necessity  of  calming  me  before 
taking  more  forcible  measures.  This  tickled  me 
so  much  that  I  laughed  again  heartily,  insomuch 
that  Jack  could  not  help  joining  me.  Suddenly  a 
thought  flashed  into  my  mind.  My  heart  leaped 
to  my  throat,  and  I  glanced  downwards.  It  was 
tliere  1  I  seized  Jack's  right  leg,  tumbled  him  back 
into  the  bed,  and  laying  the  limb  across  my  knee, 
grasped  it  violently. 

"  All  right  1 "  I  shouted,  "  straight,  firm,  muscu- 
lar, supple  as  ever."  I  squeezed  harder. 

Jack  roared.     "  I  say,  Bob,  gently  "  — 

j;  Hold  your  tongue,"  said  I,  pinching  the  thigh. 
"DoyoufeeH/m*?" 


356  Why  I  did  not  become  a  Sailor. 

"Ho!  ah!  don't  I"  — 

"And  that?" 

"  Stop  him  !  I  say,  my  dear  boy,  have  mercy  ?  " 
Jack  tried  to  raise  himself,  but  I  tilted  him  back, 
and,  grasping  the  limb  in  both  arms,  hugged  it. 

After  breakfast  Jack  and  I  retired  to  my  room, 
where,  the  weather  being  unfavorable  for  our  fish- 
ing excursion,  I  went  all  over  it  again  in  detail. 
After  that  I  sent  Jack  off  to  amuse  himself  as  he 
chose,  and,  seizing  a  quire  of  foolscap,  mended  a 
pen,  squared  my  elbows,  and  began  to  write  this 
remarkable  account  of  the  reason  why  I  did  not 
become  a  sailor. 

I  now  present  it  to  the  juvenile  public,  in  the 
hope  that  it  may  prove  a  warning  to  all  boys  who 
venture  to  entertain  the  notion  of  running  away 
from  home  and  going  to  sea. 


PAPERS  FROM  NORWAY. 


NORWAY,  2d  July,  1863. 

HAPPENING  to  be  in  Norway  just  now,  and  believ- 
ing that  young  people  feel  an  interest  in  the  land 
of  the  old  sea-kings,  I  send  you  a  short  account  of 
my  experiences.  Up  to  this  date  I  verily  believe 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  wide  world  comparable 
to  this  island  coast  of  Norway.  At  this  moment 
we  are  steaming  through  a  region  which  the  fairies 
might  rejoice  to  inhabit.  Indeed,  the  fact  that 
there  are  no  fairies  here  goes  far  to  prove  that 
there  are  none  anywhere.  What  a  thought!  No 
fairies  ?  Why  all  the  romance  of  childhood  would 
be  swept  away  at  one  fell  blow  if  I  were  to  admit 
the  idea  that  there  are  no  fairies.  Perish  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact thought !  Let  me  rather  conclude,  that, 
for  some  weighty  though  unknown  reason,  the  fai- 
ries have  resolved  to  leave  this  island  world  unin- 
habited. 

Fortune  favors  me.     I  have  just  come  on  deck, 

357 


358  Papers  from  Norway. 

after  a  two- days'  voyage  across  the  German  Ocean, 
to  find  myself  in  the  midst  of  innumerable  islands, 
a  dead  calm  —  so  dead  that  it  seems  impossible 
that  it  should  ever  come  alive  again  —  and  scene* 
ry  so  wild,  so  gorgeous,  that  one  ceases  to  won- 
der where  the  vikings  of  old  got  their  fire,  their 
romance,  their  enterprise,  arid  their  indomitable 
pluck.  It  is  warm,  too,  and  brilliantly  sunny. 

On  gazing  at  these  bald  gray  rocks,  with  the 
bright  green  patches  here  and  there,  and  an  occa- 
sional red-tiled  hut,  one  almost  expects  to  see  a 
fleet  of  daring  rovers  dash  out  of  a  sequestered 
bay,  with  their  long  yellow  hair,  and  big  blue  eyes, 
and  broad  shoulders — not  to  mention  broad-swords 
and  ring-mail  and  battle-axes.  But  one  does  not 
always  see  what  one  expects.  The  days  of  the 
sea-kings  are  gone  by ;  and  at  this  moment,  rowing 
out  of  one  of  these  same  sequestered  bays,  comes 
the  boat  of  a  custom-house  officer  !  Yes,  there  is 
no  doubt  whatever  about  it.  There  he  comos,  a 
plain-looking  unromantic  man  in  a  foraging-cap, 
with  a  blue  surtout  and  brass  buttons,  about  as 
like  to  a  sea-king  as  a  man-of-war  is  to  a  muffin. 

Of  course,  the  scenery  is  indescribable  —  no 
scenery  is  describable.  In  order  that  my  reader 


Papers  from  Norway,  359 

may  judge  of  the  truth  of  this  statement,  I  append 
the  following  description. 

There  are  islands  round  us  of  every  shape  and 
size  —  all  of  them  more  or  less  barren,  the  greater 
part  of  their  surfaces  being  exposed  gray  rock. 
Here  and  there  may  be  seen,  as  I  have  already 
hinted,  small  patches  of  bright  green,  and,  sparsely 
scattered  everywhere,  are  little  red-roofed  wooden 
cottages  —  poor  enough  things  the  most  of  them ; 
others,  gaudy-looking  affairs  with  gable-ends,  white 
faces,  and  windows  bordered  with  green.  All  of 
these  are,  while  I  write,  reflected  in  the  water  as 
in  a  mirror,  for  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind. 
Over  the  islands  on  my  left  are  seen  more  islands 
extending  out  to  sea.  On  the  right  tower  up 
the  blue  hills  of  the  interior  of  old  Norway,  and, 
although  the  weather  is  excessively  hot,  many  of 
these  are  covered  with  snow.  Every  thing  is  light, 
and  transparent,  and  thin,  and  blue,  and  glassy,  and 
fairy-like  and  magically  beautiful,  and  altogether 
delightful !  There ;  have  you  made  much  of  all 
that,  good  reader  ?  If  you  have,  be  thankful,  for, 
as  I  set  out  by  saying,  description  of  scenery  (at 
least  to  any  good  purpose)  is  impossible.  The 
description  of  a  man,  however,  is  quite  another 


360  Papers  from  Norway. 

thing.  Here  is  our  pilot.  He  is  a  rugged  man, 
with  fair  hair,  and  a  yellow  face,  and  a  clay-colored 
chin,  and  a  red  nose.  He  is  small  in  stature,  and 
thin,  insignificant  in  appearance,  deeply  miserable 
in  aspect.  His  garments  are  black  glazed  oiled- 
cloth  from  head  to  foot,  and  immensely  too  large 
for  him,  especially  the  vest,  which  is  double- 
breasted,  and  seems  to  feel  that  his  trousers  are 
not  a  sufficient  covering  for  such  a  pair  of  brittle 
looking  legs,  for  it  extends  at  least  half  way  down 
to  his  knees.  The  flap  of  his  sou'-wester,  also, 
comes  half  way  down  his  back.  He  is  a  wonder- 
ful object  to  look  upon ;  yet  he  has  the  audacity  (so 
it  seems  to  me)  to  take  us  in  charge,  and  our  cap- 
tain has  the  foolhardiness  to  allow  him. 

If  one  goes  out  of  the  beaten  track  of  "  routes  " 
in  Norway,  one  is  apt  to  get  into  difficulties  of  a 
minor  kind.  I  happen  to  be  travelling  just  now 
with  a  party  of  four  friends,  of  whom  three  are 
ladies,  the  fourth  a  jolly  young  fellow  fresh  from 
college.  A  few  days  ago  we  had  a  few  unusual 
experiences  —  even  for  Norway.  On  leaving  Ber- 
gen we  had  made  up  our  minds,  as  the  steamer  did 
not  sail  to  within  about  sixty  miles  of  our  destina- 
tion, to  gei  ourselves  and  our  luggage  pnt  down  at 


Papers  from  Norway.  361 

a  small  hamlet  at  the  mouth  of  the  NorJ. fjord,  and 
there  engage  two  large  boats  to  transport  us  the 
remaining  sixty  miles  up  the  fjord. 

The  ladies  of  our  party  valorously  resolved  to 
sit  up  all  night  to  see  the  magnificent  island 
scenery  through  which  we  were  passing  under  the 
influence  of  the  charming  and  subdued  day-light 
of  midnight  —  for  there  is  no  night  here  just  now. 

As  for  myself,  being  an  old  traveller,  I  have  be- 
come aware  that  sleep  is  essential  to  a  comfortable 
and  useful  existence.  I  therefore  bade  my  friends 
good  night,  took  a  farewell  look  at  the  bright  sky, 
and  the  islands,  and  the  sleeping  sea,  and  went 
below  to  bed. 

Next  day  we  spent  steaming  along  the  island 
coast. 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  we 
reached  Moldeoen,  where  the  steamer  landed  us 
on  a  rock  on  which  were  a  few  acres  of  grass 
and  half  a  dozen  wooden  houses.  We  had  a  good 
deal  of  luggage  with  us,  also  some  casks,  cases, 
and  barrels  of  provisions,  and  a  piano-forte,  as  our 
place  of  sojourn  is  somewhat  out  of  the  way  and 
far  removed  from  civilized  markets.  A  few  pover- 
ty-stricken natives  stood  on  the  rude  stone  pier  as 


362  Papers  from  Norway. 

we  landed,  and  slowly  assisted  us  to  unload.  At 
the  time  I  conceived  that  the  idiotical  expression 
of  their  countenances  was  the  result  of  being 
roused  at  untimely  hours ;  but  our  subsequent 
experience  led  me  to  change  my  mind  in  regard 
to  this. 

In  half  an  hour  the  steamer  puffed  away  into 
the  mysterious  depths  of  one  of  the  dark-blue 
fjords,  and  we  were  left  on  a  desolate  island,  like 
Robinson  Crusoe,  with  our  worldly  goods  around 
us.  Most  of  the  natives  we  found  so  stupid  that 
they  could  not  understand  our  excellent  Norse. 
One  fellow,  in  particular,  might  as  well  have  been 
a  piece  of  mahogany  as  a  man.  He  stood  looking 
at  me  with  stolid  imbecility  while  I  was  talking  to 
him,  and  made  no  reply  when  I  had  done.  In  fact 
the  motion  of  his  eyes,  as  he  looked  at  me,  alone 
betrayed  the  fact  that  he  was  flesh  and  blood. 

We  soon  found  that  two  boats  were  not  to  be 
had ;  that  almost  all  the  men  of  the  place  were 
away  deep-sea  fishing,  and  would  not  be  back  for 
many  hours,  and  that  when  they  did  come  back 
they  would  be  ao  tired  as  to  require  at  least  half 
a  day's  rest  ere  they  could  undertake  so  long  a 
journey  with  us.  However,  they  sent  a  man  off  in 


Papers  from  Norway.  363 

a  boat  to  search  for  as  many  boatmen  as  could  be 
found.  He  was  away  an  hour.  During  this  period 
the  few  inhabitants  who  had  turned  out  to  see  the 
steamer  disappeared,  and  we  were  left  alone  on  the ' 

beach.     There  was  no  inn  here  ;  no  one  cared  for 

\ 
us ;  every  place  seemed  dirty  with  the  exception 

of  one  house,  which  had  a  very  lonely  and  deserted 
aspect,  so  we  did  not  venture  to  disturb  it. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  messenger  returned. 
No  men  were  to  be  found  except  three.  This  was 
not  a  sufficient  crew  for  even  one  large  boat — we 
required  two. 

A  feeling  that  we  were  homeless  wanderers  came 
over  us  now,  and  each,  seating  himself  or  herself 
on  a  box  or  a  portmanteau,  began  to  meditate. 
Seeing  this,  the  three  men  coolly  lay  down  to  rest 
in  the  bow  of  their  boat,  and,  drawing  a  sail  over 
them,  were  quickly  sound  asleep. 

The  act  suggested  the  idea  that  we  could  not  do 
better,  so  we  placed  two  portmanteaus  end  to  end, 
and  thus  made  a  couch  about  six  feet  long.  A  box, 
somewhat  higher,  placed  at  one  end,  served  for  a 
pillow,  and  on  this  one  of  the  ladies  lay  down,  flat 
on  her  back  of  course,  that  being  the  only  possible 
position  under  the  circumstances.  A  shawl  was 


364  Papers  from  No.  way. 

thrown  over  her,  and  she  went  to  sleep  Iik6  an  ef- 
figy on  a  tombstone. 

Another  of  the  ladies  tried  a  similar  couch  ;  but 
as  boxes  of  equal  height  could  not  be  found,  her 
position  was  not  enviable.  The  third  lady  pre- 
ferred an  uneasy  posture  among  the  ribs  and 
cordage  of  the  boat,  and  I  lay  down  on  the  paving- 
stones  of  the  quay,  having  found  from  experience 
that  in  the  matter  of  beds  flatness  is  the  most 
indispensable  of  qualities,  while  hardness  is  not 
so  awful  as  one  might  suppose.  Where  my  com- 
rade the  collegian  went  to  I  know  not. 

Presently  one  of  the  ladies  got  up  and  said  that 
this  would  never  do ;  that  the  next  day  was 
Sunday,  and  that  we  were  in  duty  bound  to  do  our 
best  to  reach  the  end  of  our  journey  on  Saturday 
night.  Thus  admonished,  my  comrade  and  I 
started  up  and  resolved  to  become  "  men,"  that  is, 
to  act  as  boatmen.  No  sooner  said  than  done. 
We  roused  the  three  sleepers,  embarked  the  most 
important  half  of  our  luggage ;  left  the  other  half 
in  charge  of  the  native  with  the  idiotic  counte- 
nance, with  directions  to  take  care  of  it  and  have  it 
forwarded  as  soon  as  possible,  and,  at  a  little  after 
two  in  the  morning,  pulled  vigorously  away  from 
the  inhospitable  shores  of  Moldeb'en. 


Papers  from  Norway.  365 

"We  started  on  our  sixty-miles' journey  hopefully, 
and  went  on  our  way  for  an  hour  or  so  with  spirit. 
But  when  two  hours  had  elapsed,  my  companion 
and  I  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  rowing  with  un- 
accustomed muscles  rather  severely,  and  gazed 
with  envy  at  the  three  ladies  who  lay  coiled  up  in 
an  indescribable  heap  of  shawls  and  crinolines  in 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  sound  asleep.  They  needed 
sleep,  poor  things,  not  having  rested  for  two  days 
and  two  nights. 

But  my  poor  friend  was  more  to  be  pitied  than 
they.  Having  scorned  to  follow  my  example  and 
take  rest  when  he  could  get  the  chance,  he  now 
found  himself  unexpectedly  called  on  to  do  the  work 
of  a  man  when  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  open. 
When  our  third  hour  began,  I  saw  that  he  was  fast 
asleep  at  the  oar  —  lifting  it  indeed  and  dipping  it 
in  proper  time,  but  without  pulling  the  weight  of 
an  ounce  upon  it.  I  therefore  took  it  from  him, 
and  told  him  to  take  half  an  hour's  nap,  when  I 
would  wake  him  up,  and  expect  him  to  take  the 
oars  and  give  me  a  rest. 

On  being  relieved  he  dropped  his  head  on  a 
sugar-cask,  and  was  sound  asleep  in  two  minutes ! 

I  now  fe.t  drearily  dismal.     I  began  to  realize 


366  Papers  from  Norway. 

the  fact  that  we  had  actually  pledged  ourselves  to 
work  without  intermission  for  the  next  eighteen  or 
twenty  hours,  of  which  two  only  had  run,  and  I 
felt  sensations  akin  to  what  must  have  been  those 
of  the  galley-slaves  of  old.  In  the  midst  of  many 
deep  thoughts  and  cogitations,  during  that  silent 
morning  hour,  when  all  were  asleep  around  me 
save  the  three  mechanical-looking  boatmen,  and 
when  the  only  sounds  that  met  my  ears  were  the 
dip  of  the  oars  and  the  deep  breathing  (to  give  it 
no  other  name)  of  the  slumberers  —  in  the  midst 
of  many  deep  thoughts,  I  say,  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  in  my  present  circumstances  the  worst 
thing  I  could  do  was  to  think  I  I  remembered  the 
fable  of  the  pendulum  that  became  so  horrified  at 
the  thought  of  the  number  of  ticks  it  had  to  per- 
form in  a  lengthened  period  of  time,  that  it  stopped 
in  despair  ;  and  I  determined  to  "  shut  down  "  rny 
intellect. 

Soon  after,  my  shoulders  began  to  ache,  and  in 
process  of  time  I  felt  a  sensation  about  the  small 
of  my  back  that  induced  the  alarming  belief  that 
the  spinal  marrow  was  boiling.  Presently  my 
wrists  became  cramped,  and  I  felt  a  strong  incli- 
nation to  pitch  the  oars  overboard,  lie  down  in  the 


Papers  from  Norway.  367 

bottom  of  the  boat,  and  howl  !  But  feeling  that 
this  would  be  unmanly,  I  restrained  myself.  Jus* 
then  my  companion  in  sorrow  began  to  snore,  so  I 
awoke  him,  and  —  giving  him  the  oars  —  went  to 
sleep. 

From  this  period  every  thing  in  the  history  of 
that  remarkable  day  became  unconnected,  hazy, 
and  confusing.  I  became  to  some  extent  mechanical 
in  my  thoughts  and  actions.  I  rowed  and  rested, 
and  rowed  again;  late  and  sang, and  even  laughed. 
My  comrade  did  the  same,  like  a  true  Briton,  for 
he  was  game  to  the  backbone.  But  the  one  great, 
grand,  never-changing  idea  in  the  day  was  —  pull 
—  pull  —  pull ! 

We  had  hoped  during  the  course  of  that  day  to 
procure  assistance,  but  we  were  unsuccessful.  We 
passed  a  number  of  fishermen's  huts,  but  none  of 
the  men  would  consent  to  embark  with  us.  At 
last,  late  that  night,  we  reached  a  small  farm  about 
two-thirds  of  the  way  up  the  fjord,  where  we  suc- 
ceeded in  procuring  another  large  boat  with  a 
crew  of  five  men.  Here,  also,  we  obtained  a  cup 
of  coffee  ;  and  while  we  were  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  boat  I  lay  down  on  the  pier  and  had  a  short 
nap. 


368  Papers  from  Norway. 

None  but  those  who  have  toiled  for  it  can  fully 
appreciate  the  blessing  of  repose.  It  was  a  clear, 
calm  night  when  we  resumed  our  boat  journey. 
The  soft  daylight  threw  a  species  of  magical  effect 
over  the  great  mountains  and  the  glassy  fjord,  as 
we  rowed  away  with  steady  and  vigorous  strokes, 
and  I  lay  down  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  to  sleep. 
The  end  of  the  mast  squeezed  my  shoulder ;  the 
edge  of  a  cask  of  beef  well-nigh  stove  in  my  ribs ; 
the  corner  of  a  box  bored  a  hole  in  the  nape  of  my 
neck  —  yet  I  went  off  like  one  of  the  famed  seven 
sleepers,  and  my  friend,  although  stretched  out  be- 
side me  in  similarly  unpropitious  circumstances, 
began  to  snore  in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he 
laid  down. 

The  last  sounds  I  heard  before  falling  into  a 
state  of  oblivion  were  the  voices  of  our  fair  com- 
panions joining  in  that  most  beautiful  of  our  sacred 
melodies,  the  "  Evening  Hymn,"  ere  they  lay  down 
to  rest  in  the  stern  of  the  boat.  Next  morning  at 
nine  we  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  fjord,  and  at  the 
end,  for  a  time  at  least,  of  our  journeying. 


Papers  from  Norway.  369 


SALMON-FISHING  EXTRAORDINARY. 

NORWAY,  14th  July,  1863. 

Yesterday  was  a  peculiar  day  in  my  experience 
of  salmon-fishing  in  Norway. 

The  day  was  dull  when  I  set  out  for  the  river, 
seven  miles  distant,  in  a  small  boat,  with  a  Norse- 
man. A  seven-miles'  pull  was  not  a  good  begin- 
ning to  a  day's  salmon-fishing,  the  weight  of  my 
rod  being  quite  sufficient  to  try  the  amis  without 
that ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Arrived  there 
I  got  a  native,  named  Anders,  to  carry  the  bag  and 
gaff. 

Anders  is  a  fair  youth,  addicted  to  going  about 
with  his  mouth  open,  with  a  mild  countenance  and 
.  a  turned-up  nose. 

"  Good  weather  for  fishing,  Anders,"  said  I,  in 
Norse. 

"  Ya,"  said  he,  "  megit  god  "  (very  good). 

This  was  the  extent  of  our  conversation  at  that 
time,  for  we  came  suddenly  on  the  first  pool  in 
the  river ;  and  I  soon  perceived  that,  although  tho 
weather  was  good  enough,  the  river  was  so  flooded 
as  to  be  scarcely  fishable. 

2* 


370  Papers  from  Norway. 

And  now  began  a  series  of  petty  misfortunes 
that  gradually  reduced  me  to  a  state  of  misery 
which  was  destined  to  continue  throughout  the 
greater  part  of  that  day.  But  Hope  told  me  flat- 
tering tales  —  not  to  say  stories — for  a  consider- 
able time ;  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  fished  the 
third  pool  without  seeing  a  fin  that  my  heart 
began  fairly  to  sink.  The  day,  too,  had  changed 
from  a  cloudy  to  a  rainy  one,  and  Anders'  nose 
began  to  droop,  while  his  face  elongated  visbly. 

Feeling  much  depressed,  I  sat  down  on  a  wet 
stone,  in  my  wet  garments,  and  lunched  oil  a  moist 
biscuit,  a  piece  of  tongue,  and  a  lump  of  cheese. 
This  was  consoling,  as  far  as  it  went,  but  it  did  not 
go  far.  The  misty  clouds  obliterated  the  moun- 
tains, the  rain  drizzled  from  the  skies,  pprcolated 
through  the  brim  of  my  hat,  trickled  down  my 
nose,  and  dropped  upon  my  luncheon. 

"  Now  we  shall  go  up  the  river,  Anders,"  said  I. 

Anders  assented,  as  he  would  have  done  had  I 
proposed  going  down  the  river,  or  across  the  river, 
or  anywhere  in  the  wide  world ;  for,  as  I  said  it  in 
English,  he  did  not  understand  me.  Evidently  he 
did  not  care  whether  he  understood  me  or  not ! 

Up  the  river  we  went,  to  the  best  pool  in  it. 


Papers  from  Norway.  371 

The  place  was  a  torrent  —  unlishable —  so  deep 
that  I  could  not  wade  in  far  enough  to  cast  over 
the  spot  where  fish  are  wont  to  lie.  In  making  a 
desperate  effort  to  get  far  in,  I  went  over  the  boot- 
tops,  and  my  legs  and  feet,  which  hitherto  had 
been  dry,  had  immediate  cause  to  sympathize  with 
the  rest  of  my  person. 

Anders'  face  became  longer  than  ever.  All  the 
best  pools  in  the  river  were  tried,  but  without  suc- 
cess, and  at  last,  towards  evening,  we  turned  to 
retrace  our  steps  down  the  valley.  On  the  way 
I  took  another  cast  into  the  best  pool  —  going 
deeper  than  the  waist  into  the  water  in  order  to 
cast  over  the  "right  spot." 

The  effort  was  rewarded.  I  hooked  a  fish  and 
made  for  the  bank  as  fast  as  possible.  My  legs 
were  like  solid  pillars,  or  enormous  sausages,  by 
reason  of  the  long  boots  being  full  to  bursting 
with  water.  To  walk  was  difficult ;  to  run,  in  the 
event  of  the  fish  requiring  me  to  do  so,  impossible. 
I  therefore  lay  down  on  the  bank  and  tossed  both 
legs  in  the  air  to  let  the  water  run  out  —  holding 
on  to  the  fish  the  while.  The  water  did  run  out — 
it  did  more ;  it  ran  right  along  my  back-bone  to 
the  nape  of  :ny  neck ;  completing  the  saturation 


Papers  from  Norway. 

which  the  rain  had  hitherto  failed  to  accomplish. 
But  I  had  hooked  a  fish  and  heeded  It  not. 

He  was  a  small  one ;  only  ten  pounds ;  so  we  got 
him  out  quickly  and  without  much  trouble.  Yet 
this  is  not  always  the  case.  Little  fish  are  often 
the  most  obstreperous  and  the  most  troublesome. 
It  was  only  last  week  that  I  hooked  and  landed  a 
twenty-eight-pound  salmon,  and  he  did  not  give 
me  half  the  trouble  that  I  experienced  from  one 
which  I  caught  yesterday.  Well,  having  bagged 
him  we  proceeded  on  our  homeward  way,  Anders' 
face  shortening  visibly  and  his  nose  rising,  while 
my  own  spirits  began  to  improve.  At  another 
pool  I  tried  again,  and  almost  at  the  first  cast 
hooked  an  eighteen-pounder,  which  Anders  gaffed 
after  about  twenty-minutes'  play. 

We  felt  quite  jolly  now,  although  it  rained 
harder  than  ever,  and  we  went  on  our  way  rejoic- 
ing— Anders'  countenance  reduced  to  its  naturally 
short  proportions. 

Presently  we  came  to  an  old  weir,  or  erection 
for  catching  fish  as  they  ascend  the  river,  where 
lies  one  of  our  favorite  pools.  The  water  was  run- 
ning down  it  like  a  mill-race.  Pent  up  by  the  arti- 
ficial dike,  the  whole  rivei  in  this  place  gushes 


Papers  from  Norway.  373 

down  in  a  turbulent  rapid.  There  was  one  com- 
paratively smooth  bit  of  water,  which  looked  un- 
promising enough,  but  being  in  hopeful  spirits 
now,  I  resolved  on  a  final  cast.  About  the  third 
cast  a  small  trout  rose  at  the  fly.  The  greedy  lit- 
tle monsters  have  a  tendency  to  do  this.  Many  a 
small  trout  have  I  hooked  with  a  salmon  fly  as 
large  as  its  own  head.  Before  I  could  draw  the 
line  to  cast  again,  the  usual  heavy  wauble  of  a  sal- 
mon occurred  near  the  fly.  It  was  followed  by  the 
whir  of  the  reel  as  the  line  flew  out  like  light- 
ning, sawing  right  through  the  skin  of  my  fingers 
(which  by  the  way  are  now  so  seamed  and  scarred 
that  writing  is  neither  so  easy  nor  so  pleasant  as  it 
used  to  be). 

The  burst  that  now  ensued  was  sudden  and  tre- 
mendous !  The  salmon  flashed  across  the  pool, 
then  up  the  pool,  then  down  the  pool.  It  was  evi- 
dently bent  on  mischief.  My  heart  misgave  me, 
for  the  place  is  a  bad  one — all  full  of  stumps  and 
stones,  with  the  furious  rapid  before  mentioned 
just  Velow,  and  the  rough  unsteady  stones  of  the 
old  dike  as  an  uncertain  pathway  to  gallop  over 
should  the  fish  go  down  the  river.  I  held  on 
stoutly  for  a  few  seconds  as  he  neared  the  head  of 


374  Papers  from  Norway. 

the  rapid,  but  there  is  a  limit  to  the  e adurauce  of 
rods  and  tackle.  What  made  the  matter  worse 
was  that  the  dike  on  which  I  stood  terminated  in 
a  small  island,  to  get  from  which  to  the  shore 
necessitated  swimming,  and  if  he  should  go  down 
the  big  rapid  there  was  little  chance  of  his  stop- 
ping until  he  should  reach  the  foot  of  it  —  far 
below  this  island. 

All  at  once  he  turned  tail  and  went  down  head 
first.  I  let  the  line  fly  now,  keeping  my  fingers 
well  clear  of  it. 

"  He's  off,  Anders  I "  I  shouted,  as  I  took  to  my 
heels  at  full  speed. 

"  Hurroo — hoo — oo  ! "  yelled  the  Norseman,  fly- 
ing  after  me  with  the  gaff. 

How  I  managed  to  keep  my  footing  in  the  rush 
over  the  broken  dike  I  know  not.  It  is  a  marvel 
to  me.  The  bushes  on  the  island  overhung  the 
water,  the  earth  having  been  cut  away  by  the 
force  of  the  rapid.  I  tried  to  pull  up  because 
they  were  too  thick  to  crash  through;  but  the 
fish  willed  it  otherwise.  The  line  was  getting 
low  on  the  reel ;  the  rod  bent  double ;  presently 
I  had  to  straighten  it  out  —  in  another  moment  I 
was  in  the  water,  over  the  boots,  which  filled  of 


Papers  from  Norway.  375 

course  in  a  moment.  But  this  did  not  impede  me 
as  long  as  I  was  in  deep  water. 

I  was  forsaken  at  this  point  by  Anders,  who 
sought  and  found  a  safe  passage  to  the  mainland, 
where  he  stood  gazing  at  me  with  his  eyes  blazing 
and  his  mouth  wide  open. 

I  soon  reached  the  end  of  the  island,  to  my  hor- 
ror, for  I  had  not  previously  taken  particular  note 
of  the  formation  of  the  land  there.  A  gulf  of 
water  of  five  or  six  yards  broad  of  unknown  depth 
lay  between  me  and  that  shore,  by  which  in  the 
natural  course  of  things  I  should  have  followed 
my  fish  as  far  as  he  chose.  The  rapid  itself  looked 
less  tremendous  than  this  deep  black  hole.  I  hes- 
itated, but  the  salmon  did  not.  Still  down  he 
went. 

"  Now,  then,"  thought  I,  "  hole  or  rapid  ?  " 

The  question  was  settled  for  me,  for  before  I 
could  decide,  I  was  hauled  into  the  rapid.  No 
doubt  I  was  a  more  than  half-willing  captive. 
Anyhow,  willing  or  not  willing,  down  I  went. 
Ah !  what  a  moment  of  ease  and  relief  from  ex- 
ertion was  that  when  I  went  a  little  deeper  than 
ths  waist,  and  found  myself  borne  pleasantly  along 
on  tip-toe,  as  light  as  one  of  those  beautiful  balls 


376  Papers  from  Norway. 

with  which  juveniles  —  in  these  highly  favored 
days  —  are  wont  to  sport  in  the  fields  1 

And  oh  —  ho-o !  how  my  spirit  seemed  to  gush 
out  through  my  mouth  and  nose,  or  out  at  the  top 
of  my  head,  when  t  the  com  water  encircled  my 
neck  as  I  lost  my  footing  altogether,  and  struck 
out  with  my  right  hand,  endeavoring  the  while  to 
support  my  rod  in  the  left ! 

I  heard  Anders  gasp  at  this  point ;  but  I  saw 
him  not.  In  another  second  my  knees  came  into 
violent  contact  with  a  rock  (alas !  every  motion  of 
my  body,  as  I  now  write,  reminds  me  painfully  of 
that  crash !)  Immediately  after  this  I  was  sprawl- 
ing up  the  bank,  having  handed  the  rod  to  Anders 
to  hold,  while  I  tossed  my  legs  again  in  the  air,  to 
get  rid  of  the  water  which  weighed  me  down  like 
lead.  How  earnestly  I  wished  that  I  could  tear 
these  boots  off  and  fling  them  away !  But  there 
was  no  time  for  that.  On  regaining  my  legs  I 
seized  the  rod,  and  found  that  the  salmon  had 
brought  up  in  an  eddy  created  by  the  tail  of  a 
gravel-bank  in  the  centre  of  the  river  between  two 
rapids. 

"  Good,"  I  gasped,  blandly. 

Anders  smiled. 


Papers  jrom  Norway. 

Presently  I  found  that  it  was  the  reverse  of 
good,  for,  when  I  tried  to  wind  in  the  line  and 
move  the  fish,  I  perceived  that  the  resistance 
offered  was  not  like  that  of  a  salmon,  but  a 
stump ! 

"  I  do  believe  he's  gone  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

Anders  became  grave. 

"  No  fish  there,"  said  I,  gloomily. 

Anders'  face  elongated. 

"  He  has  wound  the  line  round  a  stump,  and  bro- 
ken off,"  said  I,  in  despair. 

Woe,  of  the  deepest  profundity,  was  depicted  on 
Anders'  visage ! 

For  full  five  minutes  I  tried  every  imaginable 
device,  short  of  breaking  the  rod,  to  clear  the  line 
— in  vain.  Then  I  gave  the  rod  to  Anders  to  hold, 
and,  taking  the  gaff  with  me,  I  went  sulkily  up  the 
river,  and  again  taking  to  the  water,  made  my  way 
to  the  head  of  the  gravel-bank,  over  which  I  walked 
slowly,  oppressed  in  spirit,  and  weighed  down  by 
those  abominable  boots  which  had  once  more  filled 
to  overflowing !  Waterproof  boots  are  worse  than 
useless  for  this  sort  of  work.  But  happily  this  is 
not  the  usual  style  of  thing  that  one  experiences 
in  Norwegian  fishing.  It  is  only  occasionally  that 
one*  enjoys  a  treat  of  the  kind. 


378  Papers  from  Norway. 

In  the  middle  of  the  gravel-bank  the  water  waa 
only  three  inches  deep,  so  I  lay  down  on  my  back 
and  once  again  elevating  my  ponderous  legs  in  th4 
air,  allowed  a  cataract  of  water  to  flow  over  me. 
Somewhat  lightened,  I  advanced  into  the  hole.  It 
was  deeper  than  I  thought.  I  was  up  to  the  middle 
in  a  moment,  and  sighed  as  I  thought  of  the  boots 
—  full  again.  Before  I  reached  the  line  the  water 
was  up  to  my  shoulders  ;  but  it  was  the  still  water 
of  the  eddy.  I  soon  caught  the  line  and  found  that 
it  was  round  a  stump,  as  I  had  feared.  With  a 
heavy  heart  I  eased  it  off —  when  lo  !  a  tug  sent 
an  electric  shock  through  my  benumbed  body,  and 
I  saw  the  salmon  not  three  yards  off,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pool !  He  also  saw  me,  and  darting  in  ter- 
ror from  side  to  side  wound  the  line  round  me.  I 
passed  it  over  my  head,  however,  and  was  about  to 
let  it  go  to  allow  Anders  to  play  it  out  and  finish 
the  work,  when  the  thought  occurred  that  I  might 
play  it  myself,  by  running  the  line  through  my  fin- 
gers when  he  should  pull,  and  hauling  in  when  he 
should  stop.  I  tried  this  successfully.  In  half  a 
minute  more  I  drew  him  to  within  a  yard  of  my 
side,  gaffed  him  near  the  tail,  and  carried  him  up 
t.he  grai  "el-bank  under  my  arm. 


Papers  from  Norway.  379 

He  was  not  a  large  fish  after  all  —  only  thirteen 
pounds.  Nevertheless,  had  he  been  fresh,  it  would 
have  been  scarcely  possible  for  me  to  hold  his 
strong  slippery  body.  Even  when  exhausted  he 
gave  me  some  trouble.  Gaming  the  shallowest 
part  of  the  bank  I  fell  on  my  knees,  crammed  the 
fingers  of  my  left  hand  into  his  mouth  and  gills, 
and  held  him  down  while  I  terminated  his  career 
with  a  stone.  Thereafter  I  fixed  the  hook  more 
securely  in  his  jaw,  and,  launching  him  into  vhe 
rapid,  left  Anders  to  haul  him  out,  while  I  made 
the  best  of  my  way  to  the  shore. 

This  is  about  the  roughest  experience  I  have 
yet  had  of  salmon-fishing  in  Norway. 

The  season  this  year  bids  fair  to  be  a  pretty 
good  one.  I  have  had  about  twelve  days'  fishing, 
and  have  .caught  sixteen  fish,  weighing  together 
two  hundred  and  seventy-six  pounds,  two  of  them 
being  twenty-eight-pounders. 


THE     END. 


THE 

FAMOUS 

CASTLEMON 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HARRY 
CASTLEMON. 


Specimen  Cover  oi  the  Gunboat 
Series. 

No  author  of  the  present  day  has  become  a  greater  favorite  with  boys  than 
"Harry  Castlemon;  "  every  book  by  him  is  sure  to  meet  with  hearty  re- 
ception by  young  readers  generally.  H.s  naturalness  and  vivacity  lead  his 
readers  from  page  to  page  with  breathless  interest,  and  when  one  volume  is 
finished  the  fascinated  reader,  like  Oliver  Twist,  asks  "  for  more," 

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George  in  Camp  ;  or,  Life  on  the  Plains i  25 

George  at  the  Wheel ;  or,  Life  in  a  Pilot  House  .      I  25 
George  at  the  Fort ;  or,  Life  Among  the  Solciers  .      i  25 

ROD  AND  GUN  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon. 
3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box 3  75 

Don  Gordon's  Shooting  Box i  25 

Rod  and  Gun i  25 

The  Young  Wild  Fowlers i  25 

FOREST  AND  STREAM  SERIES.  By  Harry 
Castlemon.  3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box 3  75 

Joe  Wayring  at  Home  ;  or,  Story  of  a  Fly  Rod    .      i  25 

Snagged  and  Sunk  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Can- 

vas  Canoe I  25 

Steel  Horse ;  or,  The  Rambles  of  a  Bicycle  ....      i  25 

WAR  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  3  vols., 
I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed  in 
colors.  In  box 3  75 

True  to  his  Colors  ...» i  25 

Rodney,  the  Partisan i  25 

Marcy,  the  Blockade  Runner i  25 

OUR  FELLOWS;  or,  Skirmishes  with  the  Swamp 
Dragoons.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  i6mo.  Fully  illus- 
trated. Cloth,  extra I  25 


ALGER'S 

RENOWNED 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HORATIO 
ALGER,  JR. 


Specimen  Cover  of  the  Ragged 
Dick  Series. 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr.,  has  attained  distinction  as  one  of  the  most  popular 
writers  of  books  for  boys,  and  the  following  list  comprises  all  of  his  best 
books. 

**»  Any  volume  sold  separately. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger, 
Jr.  6  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra, 
printed  in  colors.  In  box $7  50 

Ragged  Dick  ;  or,  Street  Life  in  New  York    ....      i  25 

Fame   and   Fortune ;   or,  The  Progress  of  Richard 

Hunter I  25 

Mark,  the  Match  Boy  ;  or,  Richard  Hunter's  Ward     I  25 

Rough  and  Ready ;  or,  Life  among  the  New  York 

Newsboys r  25 

Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy  ;  or,  Among  the  Wharves    .       I  25 

Rufus   and   Rose  ;   or,  the   Fortunes  of  Rough  and 

Ready i  25 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  (FIRST  SERIES.) 
By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illus- 
trated. Cloth,  extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box  ...  5  oo 

(4) 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OCT2777 


LD-URC 


27  TSTfi 


Form  L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 


Ballantyne  -_ 
Freaks   on  the 
Il5fr     fells. 


3  1158  00212  8766 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000364757    5 


PR 

4057 

B15fr 


